


Soul

by BenjisCoolTimes



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenjisCoolTimes/pseuds/BenjisCoolTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leslie and Ben are soulmates, but they're both beginning to think that the universe made a huge mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new idea I've been working on, so I'd love to hear some feedback. The next chapters will be set in more present times, but I wanted to give some backstory first. Enjoyyyy :)

26 Years Before 

Ben hates being the middle child. Henry gets all the special treatment because he’s the firstborn and Steph gets all the attention because she’s cute and three months old, but Ben hardly gets anything at all. He spends most of his time in his room for that reason, playing with his Star Wars figurines, which Henry desperately wants. Every once in a while he’ll come into Ben’s room and try to bargain for them, Han Solo in particular, but Ben never gives them up; they’re his most prized possessions. He’d gotten them last year for his birthday, when he turned six and he’s never loved anything more. 

Henry’s nine now, though, and he has a lot more strength than Ben does, which he utilizes that Saturday afternoon to snatch Han Solo right from Ben’s grasp. 

“Give it back!” Ben yells, leaping up from the floor in an attempt to grab it from his brother, but it’s no use. Henry’s much faster and he runs from the room, laughing.

“Come and get it Benji!” he screams over his shoulder and Ben actually growls, but follows all the same, running as fast as his seven year old legs will carry him. Their dad screams at them from downstairs to keep it quiet, but neither of them do. 

“Henry, it’s mine!” 

“Not anymore!” Henry taunts, running into his room and jumping onto his bed. Ben follows at full blast and tackles Henry so that they both land in a heap of sharp limbs amongst the sheets. The roll around for a while, Ben grabbing for his toy and Henry holding onto it like it’s a life line, but then suddenly, Ben feels a sharp pain on his upper arm and he pulls back, on the verge of tears. 

There’s a streak of blood running down his elbow and towards his wrist and Ben watches it creep closer and closer to his hand, his eyes wide in horror. 

“That was mean, Henry!” he chokes out, trying not to cry in front of his brother, but Henry’s just staring at the dashes in Ben’s arm with a look of bewilderment and…jealousy?

“I- I didn’t do that Benji,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn't even anywhere near your arm and I didn’t have anything sharp.” 

Ben takes a moment to process this information, and he can only think of one possible explanation.

“Can you…use the force?” he asks his brother in amazement. “Can you teach me?!” 

“I’m going to get Mom,” Henry declares, ignoring Ben’s questions and racing from the room, leaving Ben alone with the blood trickling down his arm. It’s then that Ben begins to cry. He doesn't understand what’s happening to him or why, but the more he tries to be strong, the harder he sobs. 

His mother comes into the room, wearing the same expression Henry had been earlier, like she’s both amazed and scared at the same time. 

“It’s okay, honey,” she whispers, wrapping her hand around Ben’s wrist and pulling him closer to her so that she can examine the newly formed cuts.

“Mom?” Ben asks. He’s scared. 

“I don’t understand,” Julia Wyatt says, although it’s more to herself than to Ben. Then she turns to Henry. “You’re sure this wasn't you?”

Henry nods.

“I mean, we were horsing around, but I wasn't even near his arm. He just stared bleeding out of nowhere.”

“Mommy, I think Henry used the force.” 

This just makes his mother laugh softly to herself, but she still looks confused and like she’s processing everything. 

“No, sweetie, he didn’t,” she explains softly. “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up.” 

Ben allows himself to be lead to the bathroom, where his mother sits him on the edge of the bathtub and carefully wipes the blood from his skin and bandages his cuts with a stormtrooper band-aid. 

“She must have a cat,” Julia whispers to herself, but Ben doesn't know what that’s supposed to mean. He furrows his eyebrow at her, frustrated that everyone seems to understand what’s going on but him.

“What’s happening?” he asks, trying to keep the slight quiver out of his voice. Julia pauses for a moment, thinking carefully. 

“Do you know what a soulmate is, Benji?” she asks finally and Ben shakes his head. She sighs and takes his hands, looking at him more seriously than anyone’s looked at him in his entire life. 

“Soulmates are two people who are destined to be together.”

“Destined?” Ben asks, confused. 

“It means that they’re supposed to be together,” she explains, but Ben still doesn't understand. His mother looks torn and she sighs, thinking again.

“Okay, you know how Han and Leia love each other?” she asks and Ben nods enthusiastically, happy that she’s finally talking in terms that he can understand. “It’s kind of like that. They’re perfect for each other, meant to be.”

“Okay…” Ben says. He thinks he understands. 

“Not everyone’s like Han and Leia though. Most people don’t have soulmates, but you do.”

“How do you know?” Ben counters. “Who is she?” 

“Well, when you have a soulmate, you feel the same pain that they feel. If either one of you gets hurt, the other one does too. Even Han and Leia weren’t a soulmate match; they never felt each other’s pain, which is why it’s _really_ special to have a soulmate. You have to really love the person.” 

“So if my soulmate gets a cut…” Ben asks, glancing at his now bandaged arm.

“You’ll get the same cut too,” his mother finishes for him. 

“But…why me? Why do _I_ have a soulmate? Who is she?” 

Julia Wyatt looks at him curiously and then shrugs her shoulders, taking his hand into her own and leading him back to his bedroom. 

“I don’t know,” she says and then she closes the door and leaves Ben to process it all on his own. He begins toying with his Han and Leia figurines (Henry must’ve returned Han while Ben was in the bathroom) and thinks everything over. There’s a person out there who he’s _made_ to be with…it’s a lot of information for one person to have, but soon, Ben becomes lost in his toys once more and the thought is banished from his mind. He has much more important things to think about anyways, like where his Millenium Falcon disappeared off to. 

But, unbeknownst to Ben, only a few states over, in a small town called Pawnee, a tiny blonde girl is crying into her father’s shoulder, while he assures her over and over again that _the kitty didn’t mean to._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter relies a little bit on canon, but going forward I'm going to be moving away from that. Thank you for all of your kudos and comments so far :)

Ben tries to rub the sleep from his eyes and concentrate on work, but all he can seem to think of is his bed which is waiting for him at home. He only gets a week in Indianapolis between assignments, but it’s always just enough to make him consider settling down for once. Living on the road all the time can become tedious and he finds that the more he does it, the more he comes to absolutely despise motel beds, and motels in general. 

Chris on the other hand, loves traveling from town to town, insisting that it’s _literally the most splendid way to meet new people._ Ben thinks it’s all bullshit since everyone seems to hate him anyways, but he continues to do it all the same because apparently he’s a masochist. 

It’s only once Ben realizes he’s been staring at his computer for the better part of an hour, not doing anything to finish up his spreadsheets, that he decides he might as well pack up and go home. He’s only slightly bitter that his week is nearly up and tonight’s the last night he’ll get to spend in his own bed.

Okay, scratch that. He’s _really, really_ bitter. 

Just as Ben’s shoving a final stack of papers into his desk drawer and standing up to leave for the night, there’s a curt knock on the door followed by Chris waltzing into his office, holding up a manilla envelope and wearing a smile that could outshine the sun.

“Ben Wyatt!” he says jovially. “I have our next assignment!” 

“Great, Chris.” 

Ben’s lack of enthusiasm is seemingly lost on his partner though, because Chris’s smile never falters as he rips into the envelope ardently, his eyes shining as he reads from the slip of paper inside. 

“Pawnee, Indiana!” 

“Awesome,” Ben says flatly. He stands up again and leaves his office, Chris following at his heels like an eager child, still talking excitedly about their _new adventure._ He ends up following Ben all the way downstairs and out to his car, where Ben literally has to roll up his window to get his friend to stop talking. Ben loves Chris, don’t get him wrong; it’s just that Chris is one of those people who never shuts up until he’s basically forced to.

Plus Ben might be _slightly_ cranky about having to go to this Pawnee place and he _might_ be taking some of it out on Chris, but who can blame him? All he wants these days is to actually live in his apartment as opposed to just visiting it a few times throughout the year. He kinda feels like he might as well just be dumping money out of the window every time he pays rent. 

That being said though, it’s home, and when he gets there, he’s physically relieved. As soon as he steps through the door, his shoulders sag and there’s a noticeable decrease in his step. He gets himself a beer and sinks into the couch, putting on a Game of Thrones re-run, but not really watching it. Instead, he rolls up his sleeve and examines a particularly large bruise just below his elbow. He’s got a few on his knees too.  

“Hey, Soul.” he whispers. “What’d you do to yourself this time?” 

Ben thinks his soulmate might be the biggest klutz known to man, if the constant cuts and bruises on his body are any indication. Truthfully, he can’t even remember the last time he wasn't at least a little black and blue, but he doesn't mind. He’s always had a soft spot when it comes to Soul, despite knowing next to nothing about them. He doesn't even know if they’re a man or a woman, hence the nickname Soul, since he doesn't want to incorrectly use any sort of pronouns.

For some reason, Ben thinks it’s a woman and he thinks that she’s nearby, which is completely ridiculous because, of the few people who actually have soulmates, even fewer actually meet them. Every once in a while you’ll hear about a strange case where someone goes across seas and meets their soulmate there, but it’s extremely rare. In most situations, people die without ever meeting them at all; it’s common and quite frankly, expected. Ben’s never actually met a soulmate match in person before, which isn't surprising as there’s only said to be one in the entire state of Indiana and forty-two across the country. Heaven knows how many matchless soulmates are walking around in the midst of it all, some trying to find their partner and others not. 

Ben grazes his fingers across the bruises in his arm, lost in thought. He thinks about the worst day of his life, which wasn’t even _his_ worst day. He’d been a freshman in high school at the time, at baseball try-outs, to be exact, when suddenly he was so overcome with pain that he couldn't breathe. He’d doubled over in the shortstop sand, confused as to where it was all coming from because this pain wasn't physical. He’d felt like something was ripping away at his insides, squeezing his heart and constricting his lungs, making it difficult to draw air. 

He was pulled from the field, crying uncontrollably and clutching at his chest, trying with all of his might just to breathe. The pain had gradually subsided, but for the next several weeks, it lingered. Ben doesn't know what exactly, but he knows that something really terrible must’ve happened to Soul then, and there’s always been a part of him that wants to find out. What’s more, on every anniversary of that day since, Ben feels as though he’s been hit by a truck and the next morning he wakes up with what feels suspiciously like a hangover headache. Luckily, that’s the only time Soul ever really seems to do any heavy drinking, so he doesn't have to worry about that for the rest of the year, unless of course, it’s his own headache. 

His Game of Thrones episode ends as he ponders all of this, and even though he wasn’t even watching it anyways, he decides to take it as a sign that he should go to bed. He has a busy day ahead of him after all, and he wants to be well rested before meeting the people of Pawnee.

***

Pawnee is…different to say the least. It’s not exactly like any other town Ben’s been to, but he almost wishes it was. So far, he’s been here for a total of three and a half hours and he has yet to find one single helpful government employee, which is putting him even more on edge than usual, which is saying a lot.

Chris, on the other hand, thinks that everyone here is a superstar, and he’s already managed to turn Ben into the bad guy by leaving all of the actual budget cutting up to him. Ben can’t say that he didn’t expect it, but it’s also why he’s glad that they’re coming up on their last department for the day; Parks and Recreation. Then, after this, he will finally be able to settle into his motel room and daydream about a more comfortable bed, just like he does every single time he visits a new town. 

The first thing Ben notices when they get to Parks is a head of shockingly blonde hair. The second thing he notices is an angry looking man with a rather impressive mustache and a scowl that could give the Incredible Hulk a run for his money, who also happens to be the head of the department. Apparently Blonde Lady is the deputy director. There’s a few other people in the room, but none of them stand out as much and they stand back in the shadows. 

Ben doesn't really pay attention as Chris sweet-talks the group, falsely assuring them that there’s really nothing to worry about because they just need to _tinker_ with things. Ben’s been developing a theory over the last few years that roughly ninety percent of whatever comes out of Chris’s mouth is just pure bullshit, and this all just proves his point. 

“My partner Ben’s going to stick around for a bit,” Chris tells them as he makes his way out of the room, leaving Ben by himself with the group. “And I will see you all later. Adios!” 

Great, now Ben gets to deliver all the bad news. Hooray. 

He turns towards Blonde Lady and Mustache Guy, who’s names are apparently Leslie and Ron, and asks them if they have a moment to go over some budget stuff. It’s a pretty basic procedure, so, with any luck, he’ll be out of here in no time. Leslie seems friendly enough and she escorts them all into the conference room, babbling about something or another, but Ben pays her no mind. He isn't here to make friends.

“Where do you think there’s waste in your department?” he asks, ignoring whatever it was Leslie had just said to him; he thinks it was something about a shirt, but it doesn't matter anyways. No matter how cordial he is now, he’ll still end up getting death threats, so what’s the point of even trying? He might as well just get down to business and do what he came here to do, which is to get this town back on it’s feet financially. 

Leslie insists that there is no waste in the department at all and Ron insists that he doesn't even know where to begin. Ben stares between the two of them, eyebrows cocked and forehead furrowed in confusion. He soon learns that Leslie and Ron are about as polar opposite as two people can be and he begins to wonder how they can possibly work together peacefully with such different mindsets. Ron’s clearly a libertarian, which is…a weird thing for a government employee to be and he seems more than excited at the prospect of budget slashing. He’s already waved an imaginary knife around several times, giggling uncontrollably to himself. 

Leslie, on the other hand, is more on the professional side; or at least, she tries to be. Her hands are folded neatly in front of her as she says and does anything to try and protect her department. It’s not that Ben’s opposed to people being pro-government, but this is just annoying. 

“Okay, you need to understand that in order to keep this town afloat, we’re going to need to cut the budget of each department by at least forty to fifty percent,” he explains, trying to remain civil, but things…don’t go very well after that. 

“Well, Chris said you just had to, you know, just tinker with things,” Leslie says. Her voice is hopeful and a part of Ben almost feels bad about saying what he says next, but he says it anyways. 

“Yeah because saying that sounds a lot better than, ‘we’re going to gut it with a machete’,” 

“You’re a jerk,” Leslie says and Ron puts out a hand to steady her. In a perfect world, Leslie and Ron could balance each other out nicely, but they’re both clearly too headstrong to really pay much attention to the other, so Ron’s “easy” goes unnoticed by Leslie and she begins to rant about how towns and buildings have feelings or something like that. Truthfully, it doesn't make much sense to Ben. 

“Look,” Ben says, his annoyance quickly bubbling into anger. “Pawnee is not special.” 

He suddenly feels a sharp pang of hurt from within his stomach and his thoughts immediately drift to Soul. He hopes that she’s alright, but he really wishes she wouldn't distract him right now; he’s too busy being angry at Leslie to even think about Soul at the moment. 

“Pawnee is _very_ special.” Leslie says, her voice lowering to a frighteningly low register. 

“Right,” Ben says curtly, and then he stands up to leave. “I’ll just get what I need from the spreadsheets.” 

Then, with the turn of his heel, he’s walking briskly out of the room, his head spinning. Normally he doesn't let himself get angry like this, but there’s just something about Leslie that really irks him. 

Ben practically stomps back to his office, not giving a single, flying fuck that he’s behaving like a child. Why is it that everyone treats him like he’s some sort of monster? He’s just fixing the problems that _their_ government created so that they can actually have a government at all. Leslie Knope really needs to grow up and realize that the world isn't sunshine and rainbows all the time. Sometimes shitty things just have to happen before the good things can, and that’s just the way it is; it’s the way that it’s always been. 

“How’d it go?” Chris asks from his position on the floor, where he’s doing one handed pushups at a rather impressive speed. 

“Just great!” Ben practically growls, slamming his pad folio onto his desk with such vigor that a papers fly in all different directions. “It was really just spiffing.” 

“Awesome! I find that excitement is a great motivator for exercise, Ben. You should really take a quick run around the block!” 

This actually makes Ben forget about his rage for a moment because surely Chris couldn’t believe that things in Parks had actually gone well. There’s steam coming out of Ben’s ears and he’s pretty sure his face is now a deep red. Plus, he’s being all stomp-y and tantrum-y. 

“Well, I didn’t exactly bring my running clothes with me…”

“Nonsense!” Chris yells. “You can just borrow mine.”

And then, Ben finds himself being pushed out of the office, fully clad in what feels like 100% spandex and unable to convince Chris that there’s really no excitement to “run off” at all. The door slams shut behind him and he sighs, rubbing at his temples in frustration. 

Instead of running, Ben walks around city hall in his new attire, trying not to be too self-conscious about it, but missing his plaid shirts and skinny ties horribly. He calls his brother, extremely in need of someone to vent to.

“Hey!” Henry booms from the other side and Ben proceeds to tell him all about his day, Leslie in particular. Once he’s done, there’s a long pause and then,

“Is she pretty?” 

“I mean, I guess,” Ben says, trying to put the equivalent of a shoulder-shrug into his voice. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“I think Benji’s got a little crushhhh…” Henry taunts and Ben suddenly has a vision of himself throwing his phone across the room. And then stomping on it several times. 

“What? No! Henry, you’re missing the point. I just told you how completely _aggravating_ Leslie is and you suggest that I like her? That’s ridiculous.”

“Look, I’m just saying, I haven't seen you get this riled up about a girl since Cindy Eckert in high school,” Henry says and Ben rolls his eyes.

“I. Don’t. Like. Her.” he says through gritted teeth. “And I never will.” 

Then he ends the call and sinks into the nearest bench, putting his face into his hands and sighing dramatically. He honestly has no idea what’s gotten into him, but he thinks that all of his pent-up frustration from the last several years on the job is finally catching up to him. Apparently, all it takes is for one blonde nightmare to call him a jerk, and suddenly, he’s done for. 

He lifts his head from his hands when he hears the incessant click-clacking of heels on the marble floors and is meet with the image of Leslie Knope walking quickly towards him, her face hidden behind a rather large stack of papers that she’s reading as she walks. She reaches his location and looks up, clearly surprised to see him sitting there. Her surprise quickly turns to irritation, however, and she purses her lips, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be here."

It’s then that it dawns on Ben that maybe he’s being unfair to Leslie. She’d been perfectly kind to him before he started acting like a jerk, and while she was maybe a little bit narrow-minded, he couldn't really blame her. He thinks he would’ve behaved the same way had he been in her position and his job was potentially at stake. 

“Yeah, but I can leave if you’d like me to.”  

“Thanks,” she says crossly, taking Ben completely off guard. He hadn’t actually expected her to say yes to that. 

“Oh, okay,” he mumbles, scrambling to get up. She takes his seat and without so much as another glance in his direction, she busies herself with her work once more. Ben makes to walk away, but he doesn't get very far before he turns back. 

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot,” he says. “And I’d just like to say that I’m sorry.” 

Leslie looks up, eyes defiant. 

“You know what, Ben,” she says. “we did get off to a pretty lousy start, but that was all your fault. Ron keeps telling me to apologize, but I’m not going to, because I still think you’re an ass.” 

“Okay that’s fair,” Ben concedes, but for some reason it still hurts to hear. If he isn't mistaken, it must’ve hurt Leslie to say too, because a flash of pain crosses her eyes. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Ben says and he makes his way back to his office, completely unaware of the familiarly shaped bruises on Leslie’s knees that would’ve explained so much. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos. You guys are the best! <3

After just four days in Pawnee, Ben knows without a doubt that Leslie’s going to be the most resistant of everyone to his and Chris’s ideas. Most of the other departments don't seem happy, sure, but they at least follow the rules and restrict their budget spending. Leslie, on the other hand, has no problems wasting two-hundred dollars on _soil,_ and refuses to even try and see the error in her ways.

“Leslie, I told you, Pawnee doesn't have the money for these things right now.” Ben tells her, but Leslie just smiles up at him from her desk, where she’s more focused on her computer than what he’s saying.

“I’ve worked hard in my time here to make sure there’s always money in the Parks budget, Ben, so I really don’t see how soil is such a big problem; we have plenty of money saved.” 

“Yes, well Pawnee doesn't exactly have a hell of a lot of money right now, so we need to take it from where we can.” 

This, if anything, catches Leslie’s attention. 

“So, you mean to tell me,” she says, her lip curling into the faintest of snarls. “that the money _Parks_ saved might go towards a _different_ department?”

“Yup.” Ben says, crossing his arms and looking her straight in the eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean.” 

“But that’s not fair!” Leslie yells, standing up abruptly and ignoring the papers that fly from her desk when she does so. 

Ben throws his hands up in the air.

“Life’s not fair, Leslie! You might as well just get used to it!” Ben says, and then, because he can’t stand to look at her for even one second more, he leaves her office. He’s learned, especially since Leslie rejected his apology, that it’s better to be the fascist hard-ass who gets things done, than the good guy, who’ll end up just getting hurt in the process, so it doesn't really bother him to leave her so angry and upset. It’s not his problem. 

But then, a voice behind him makes him stop in his tracks.

“Were you always this pessimistic, Ice Clown?” 

Ben feels his heart sink straight to the floor and he swallows audibly before slowly turning around to face Leslie, who’s standing in her office doorway, a self-satisfied smirk plastered to her face. 

“I- I didn’t think anyone knew that was me…” 

“I followed your campaign in high school.” she says with a shrug, as if it’s not really a big deal, even though they both know it’s actually a huge deal. Ben’s speechless for a moment and is saved from having to talk when Leslie speaks again. 

“I think that since bankrupting your hometown, you’ve turned into a numbers robot because you want to prove you're responsible again, but really you’re just an ass. You should really start thinking about all the people you're affecting with your budget slashing instead of just yourself.” Leslie says, and then she turns back to her office and slams the door before he can even get a word in edgewise. 

The worst part of it all is how right she is. She sees right through him in a way that no one ever has. 

*** 

The Pawnee Super Suites Motel is the absolute worst place on the planet. The people staying directly above him have got to be the noisiest people on Earth and every morning Ben wakes up to the sounds of them screaming loudly at one another and throwing objects around their room in fury. Not to mention, only one of the outlets in his entire room actually works and so he spends most of his time huddled into one corner, trying to charge his laptop as he works.

It’s not comfortable at all. 

Ben punches the floor in exasperation, and not for the first time that hour, he curses Chris for doing absolutely nothing useful to help the auditing process. He loves Chris and all but he’d like a little help once in a while. It kinda sucks that while he’s making spreadsheets and getting death threats, Chris is off making new friends and having a lovely time. 

Ben shakes the thought and tries to focus on finding ways to reduce government spending instead. He knows that he has to cut each department by at least forty percent, but he’s running out of ideas at this point. Ben actually likes this aspect of his job. He likes punching numbers and doing the math out, but right now, he honestly just wants to go to sleep. 

It’s been a long day, and he can’t seem to shake what Leslie had said to him earlier. The words _Ice Clown_ keep ringing through his mind and no matter how many times he tries to convince himself that he isn't phased by them, he secretly knows that they cut through him like ice. No one’s called him that in years and he’d thought he was over the whole thing by now, but apparently he’s not. 

Leslie was able to unravel him in just two words. She knew, without even really knowing him that well, that he wasn't always like this; he hadn't always been so cranky and uptight about everything. There’d been a time, when he was eighteen and daring, that he’d run for mayor of Partridge, Minnesota and won. Of course, he’d also bankrupted the town by building a giant winter-sports complex called Ice Town, but he doesn't like to dwell on that part. He likes to remember when he was optimistic about government and when he did things with other people in mind, when he wanted to make the world a better place.

Then, he was impeached and all of his naive ideas of the world were thrown out the window. Ben grew a thicker skin because he had to and he stopped relying on such childish dreams. Politics, he realized, were not what he wanted them to be; they’re cold and harsh because otherwise nothing would ever get done.

Yet, despite it all, there’s always been a tiny voice inside Ben’s mind that tells him maybe he’s wrong; maybe Ice Town actually turned him into a grumpy, hard-assed monster, and he’s handling it all wrong. Leslie sees that side of him and it’s completely infuriating. He wishes she’d never said anything. 

Ben sighs and turns his attention back to his work. He knows he has to fire at least one person from each department, and as much as he hates doing it, he’s got to figure out who. 

It’s two in the morning by the time he gets to the Parks Department and he thanks every deity known to man that this is the last one. After this, he’ll get to go to sleep and forget about everything for a little while, which sounds like the most amazing thing in the world right now. 

He scrolls through the list of personnel, making an occasional note in his moleskin journal and rubbing the sleep from his face. He isn’t tired for long though, because suddenly his eyes widen and a pit forms in his stomach. He’s more awake than ever, because he knows what he has to do now. 

Leslie has the second highest pay in the entire department and so far she’s been completely uncooperative and outright rude. She does things without permission and behaves in an unprofessional manner, which can be nothing but toxic for Pawnee Government. 

He has to fire her. 

***

Ben calls the Indianapolis office several times to make sure he’s making the right decision, and his boss assures him that he is, but he can’t fight the lingering feeling that he’s actually making a mistake. What if Leslie sees it all as some sort of payback or something? And what if he’s choosing the wrong person? 

Honestly, he doesn't know why he’s so hung up on this decision, because there are several other people he’s going to have to fire today too. Leslie isn't the only one who’s going to be hurt by all of this. 

“There’s not much else you can do, Ben.” his boss tells him for the third time and he finally relents. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He hangs up and looks over to Chris’s empty work-station, suddenly envious of his weird marathoning schedule; at least _he_ doesn't have to fire a million people today. 

Ben mentally shakes himself and decides to take a walk, maybe get a coffee from the lounge and take his mind off of things for a little while. He plays with the newly formed cut on his elbow as he does so, and is both extremely surprised and not surprised at all when he bumps into Leslie. She’s pouring an ungodly amount of sugar into her coffee and humming something that sounds suspiciously like Hamilton. 

Ben makes to back out of the room before she turns and sees him standing there, but he doesn't move fast enough and she catches sight of him. She stops humming immediately and clears her throat, squaring her shoulders.

“I’ll just get out of your way.” she says in an icy tone. 

“Oh.” Ben says, stepping aside to let her through the doorway. “Um, I was actually wondering if I could see you in my office at three today?” 

“I’m going to be busy.” she deadpans.

“Leslie…”

“Fine. I’ll be there.” 

And then she brushes past him, perhaps more aggressively than necessary and she nearly spills coffee all over herself in an attempt to get away as fast as she possibly can. It’s almost like she knows he’s going to fire her. 

“Jesus Christ.” Ben whispers to himself once he’s alone. He isn't alone for long, however, because someone else comes in, singing loudly and knocking nearly everything over.

“Hey! You’re that state auditor guy, right?” the man asks, right as he’s pouring ramen noodles into the coffee pot. 

Yup. That’s Ben. The state auditor guy.

“Yeah. Who’re you?” 

“Andy Dwyer. I work in the shoeshine stand.” he says and he holds out his hand, which still has a few stray noodles on it. Not really knowing what else to do, Ben shakes it anyways and tries to ignore how gross it feels against his skin. 

“Ben Wyatt.” 

“Yeah, I know, dude.” Andy says. “You’re basically all Leslie talks about these days. She hates your guts.” 

Suddenly, at that moment, Ben’s saved from having to respond because the coffee pot explodes and noodles fly everywhere. He flinches as a few hit his face and he sighs, because this might as well just fucking happen. His life clearly isn't weird enough already. 

“Oh shit! I think I broke everything!” Andy says.

“You think?” Ben asks, his voice laced with sarcasm, but he grabs the nearest roll of paper towels anyways and helps Andy clean up. 

“So, um, just out of curiosity, why exactly did you think it was a good idea to make ramen in the coffee pot?” Ben asks, scrubbing away at a particularly stubborn noodle that’s plastered to the wall. How it’s already so stuck is besides Ben. 

“Where else would I have made it?” 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the stove?” Ben suggests. 

“Oh yeah.” Andy says and then, upon seeing Ben’s arm, he changes the subject.

“What’d you do to your elbow?” 

Ben glances down at the gash in his arm and smiles softly, thinking of Soul. 

“It wasn't me actually. I have a soulmate.” 

“No way!” Andy screams, weirdly excited by the information. “April’s my soulmate.” 

This catches Ben off guard.

“April, really?” Ben says. “Isn’t she the scary one?” 

“Yeah.” Andy giggles. “She’s the best.” 

“Huh. I’ve never actually met someone who knows their soulmate before.” Ben says, although it’s more to himself than to Andy. 

And suddenly, Ben finds himself jealous of Andy, the klutzy shoeshine guy, because he’s one of the lucky few who’s ever gotten to meet his soulmate, just like the universe always intended.

***

Three o’clock comes around much more quickly than Ben would’ve liked. So far he’s fired four other people today and he’s not exactly in the best of spirits. It certainly doesn't help matters much that Chris won’t shut up about a woman named Ann Perkins, who’s _literally the most amazing woman in the world_ and who he’s going on a date with tonight. 

Leslie walks in, a stack of papers in hand, and straightens her blazer before sitting down. The pit in Ben’s stomach grows tenfold. 

“You wanted to see me?” she asks. 

“Uh, yeah.” he sputters. He wasn't this nervous firing anyone else. 

“Well, I actually wanted to apologize to you.” Leslie says and Ben’s breath catches in his throat. “I don't think I’ve been completely fair to you the last few days and while I hate your profession, I can at least kind of understand why you have to be so strict. And, I shouldn't have brought up Ice Town yesterday. I was being insensitive.” 

She looks away from him as she’s saying it, which makes Ben believe the words must be hard for her to say. She doesn't seem like the apologetic type. 

“Oh, well thank you.” Ben nods, straightening the papers on his desk and somehow dreading what’s going to come next even more than he had been before her apology. 

“So you forgive me?” 

“Yeah. All’s forgiven.” Ben says. A huge smile breaks out over Leslie’s face, and suddenly Ben can’t help but to think she’s beautiful. He didn’t notice it before, but he has no idea how, because she’s stunning. She’s like a literal beam of sunshine or something. 

“But, just so you know, that won’t stop me from spending money.” Leslie says still smiling. She pulls the stapler on his desk closer to herself and begins stapling the stack of papers on her lap. 

“Actually, about that,” Ben says. “I wanted to talk to you. In order to keep this town afloat, we have to cut the budget of each department by at least forty percent. I’m sorry but we’re going to have to let you go because you’re not a good fit for this department right now. We need someone who’s going to adhere to the guidelines.” 

Leslie’s eyes immediately widen and the stapler slips in her hand. Suddenly, with a loud clunking sound, she’s manages to staple her finger and she pulls her arm back quickly.

“Shit!” they yell in union, both grabbing their hands. There’s an intake in Ben’s breath as he spots blood oozing from his own finger.

_Well, fuck._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support of this story. Please let me know if you've seen any errors so far, as I do not currently have a beta. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next chapter and I will do my best to make sure more comes soon :)

“W-why are you bleeding too?” Leslie asks, the first to break the uncomfortable silence that’s fallen over them. Her words barely register in Ben’s brain.

He doesn't answer at first, too mesmerized by the dark specks of blood pooling at the tip of his finger. He finally looks up at Leslie to find that she’s just as shocked as he is. 

“Ben, why are you bleeding too?” she asks again, her eyes growing wider by the second as she takes a step away from him, already distancing herself from the man who just fired her. 

“I…you…we…s-soulmates?” he sputters. 

_Good sentence, Ben. Really, that was just fantastic. This is exactly how I pictured this moment._

“No, we can’t be.” Leslie says, shaking her head furiously. “It’s just a coincidence, right?” 

“Yes! Of course it is. I mean you don’t have a huge gash on your elbow too, right?” Ben says, moving frantically to shrug out of his suit jacket to show her the wound. 

Leslie doesn't say anything, but instead stares, horrified, at Ben’s outstretched arm.

“R-right, Leslie?” Ben asks again. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and takes off her own blazer, stretching out her arm too so that it’s right next to his. Ben stares down at the gash that rips through her pale and freckled skin, and he knows without a shred of doubt, that this is no coincidence. Soul, the person he’s been hoping to meet his entire life, is standing directly in front of him.  

“It’s you…” he says under his breath.

“Really?!” Leslie says, cracking open her eyes a fraction of an inch. She sounds almost…excited? 

“Yes!!” Ben says, matching her excitement with a too-big smile. He stands up suddenly and rests his foot on the edge of his desk, rolling up his pant leg to show her the trail of yellowing bruises that race up his knee and onto his thigh. He looks at her expectantly, the question hanging unasked between them. 

“I have those too!” she yells, rolling up her own pants. They laugh disbelievingly, the excitement of it all bubbling through them. 

“Wait, what about the time you passed out? What happened then?” Ben asks, now more eager than ever to learn more about this woman. The rest of the world continues turning around him, but he’s oblivious to it. He only has eyes for Soul. 

“I was ranting about Eagleton and I forgot to breathe!”

“Seriously?” Ben asks, still laughing uncontrollably. “I was making out with the hottest girl in my class at the time!” 

“And then you passed out on her?” Leslie giggles. 

“Yes! Things were getting heated and I definitely could’ve made it to second base if it wasn't for that.” he laughs, but then a thousand more questions flood his mind. 

“What happened to your shoulder that time?” he asks, grimacing at the memory. “I was sitting on my couch and suddenly my shoulder was out of it’s socket! It was easily the most painful thing ever!”

“Oh crap on a crab! That _was_ bad wasn't it? I ran my bike into a tree and then I kind of went over my handlebars and right into it. I hit my shoulder and when I fell to the ground it somehow came out.” 

Yet another snort escapes Ben as he imagines a much younger version of Leslie, surely with the same amount of crazed energy and passion that she has now, her blonde curls sneaking out of her helmet as she rides her bicycle right into a tree. It’s an almost endearing thought and he forgets that he hates her. 

“Oh, what about that time you broke your kneecap?” she asks, snapping her fingers furiously as she recalls the memory. “That must’ve been ten years ago!”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry about that. I was playing baseball and-”

“I was on a date!” 

“You were? Oh fuck…” he says. He can’t believe any of this is happening. 

“Yeah, but he dumped me as we were waiting for the ambulance to come, so I guess it was like a blessing in disguise. At least I didn’t have to waste anymore time with that jerk face.” she says, but her eyes are bright and her smile never falters. “You were like my hero and you didn’t even know it.” 

“He dumped you? That’s horrible!” Ben says, trying not to get too mushy gushy at the thought of being Soul’s hero. Honestly, it’s all so high-school. 

“God, what a douchebag.” he mutters under his breath. The idea of some guy just ditching Soul at a time like that really makes Ben contemplate learning kung-fu or something like that. He’d really like to kick this dude’s ass. 

Suddenly Leslie stops laughing and her face grows hard, as if remembering exactly where she is. 

“Yeah, but at least he didn’t fire me.” she says. The words are like an ironclad punch to the gut and the smile slips from Ben’s face at once. The world refocuses around him once more and everything becomes much sharper, clearer. 

_Oh fuck. He just fired Soul._

“Leslie, I-”

“I’m the hardest worker in City Hall, just ask anyone!” she says, her voice growing louder with each word. “I love my job and I love Pawnee, so you _can’t_ fire me. In fact I wont _let_ you fire me.” 

“I’m sorry, but…” 

“Stop. Talking.” Leslie demands, her voice lowering to a frighteningly deep register. 

“Maybe once all of this is over…” Ben begins to suggest weakly, but she cuts him off. 

“Shut your stupid mouth!” she yells. “I declare myself un-fired.” 

And then, with a turn of her heel, she walks from his office, leaving Ben at his desk, mouth hanging open in disbelief. Only Leslie Knope, of all people, would refuse to be fired. 

The worst part of it all is when he has to call security to escort her from the building. He watches, through his window and across the courtyard, as tears drip from her face as she packs up her desk, a security guard standing in her doorway and a brunette woman rubbing her back reassuringly. He isn't sure if the tug on his heart is hers or his. 

***

April Ludgate would be terrifying on any normal day, but today she’s especially terrifying. She marches into Ben’s office, her usual annoyed scowl replaced by one of pure anger.  

“What the fuck, dude?” she yells, crossing her arms over her chest and glowering down at Ben with such ardent rage that he’s actually a little bit afraid. He doesn't send her away, though, like he usually would, because somehow he gets the feeling he’s going to deserve what’s coming next. 

“You can’t just _fire_ Leslie!” 

“Actually it wasn't just my decision.” he tries to explain. “My boss basically told me I had t-” 

“I don’t give a fuck what your boss said. If you don't call her right now and un-fire her, I swear to Satan I’ll set an army of blood orphans on you.” 

Ben actually forgets to be upset for a second because…blood orphans? He doesn't know what the hell those are but they _do not_ sound pleasant and he _definitely_ doesn't want an entire army of them being unleashed on him, he knows that much for sure.

“I’m sorry, but there’s not much else I can do. I don’t like it either.” 

Right then, they’re interrupted by an equally angry Ron stomping into Ben’s office, his fists balled up in rage and his mustache quivering dangerously. Honestly, he makes April look tame. 

“Son,” he says, his voice higher than Ben’s ever heard it. “explain yourself.” 

“Well I-”

“I don't think you understand that Leslie _is_ the Parks Department. I haven't done an ounce of work for this government in years, partially because the government is nothing more than a baby pig sucking on the taxpayer’s teat, and partially because Leslie does it all!” 

“I’m sorry but I have several people in Indianapolis backing me up on this decision.” 

“Don’t care.” Ron says. “Get your shrimpy ass up right now and go give Leslie her job back.” 

“That’s not an option.” Ben says, trying to act like he isn't completely terrified right now. He has a feeling though, that both Ron and April can see right through his facade without a problem. 

“You might want to rethink that answer, son.”

April nods from next to Ron and makes several throat-cutting motions before they both exit his office, leaving Ben feeling shittier about himself than ever. He’d like to go back to Ice Town now please. 

His day never gets better after that either. Surprisingly, it’s pretty hard to concentrate on your work after you’ve just unknowingly fired your soulmate and so, for the remainder of the afternoon, Ben stares at an empty computer screen until five o’clock when it’s time to go home. Then, he packs up, not really thinking about what he’s doing, drives back to Pawnee Super Suites Motel and is greeted by a loud creek from his bedsprings when he finally sinks into the old mattress that is his bed.

He fashions a blanket cocoon around himself and contemplates never emerging ever again. He met Soul today and then he fired her, so he’s fine right here for the rest of eternity, thank you very much. 

What Ben can’t seem to shake is the fact that there’d been a shift in Leslie’s demeanor when he confirmed that they were, in fact, soulmates. She’d gone from dreading the idea that it was him, to excited that she’d finally met the man who was the source of so much of her pain, and Ben couldn’t help but to be swept along with it. In fact, his heart is still fluttering at the very idea that he’s just met Soul, but at the same time it feels like it was just thrown against a wall and then run over by a truck, so there’s that. 

He rolls over so that he can grab his phone off the nightstand and call his brother. On the second ring, Henry picks up. 

“Leslie’s my soulmate.” Ben blurts out immediately, without so much as a preamble. There’s a pause and Ben considers for a moment the possibility that Henry’s just had a heart attack or something because he’s never silent for this long. 

“L-Leslie, the one who called you a jerk?”

“Yup. That’s the one.” 

And then, Henry begins to laugh and for some reason Ben finds himself laughing right alongside him. The whole thing is just so completely ridiculous and he’s powerless to the giggles that are escaping him.

“And get this,” Ben adds with a hint of self-depreciating glee, “I’d just fired her!” 

“Benji!” Henry yells and Ben can practically picture him haunched over, clutching his side like he always does when he finds something particularly funny. 

“Oh man, Benny.” Henry says once he’s regained breath. “This kind of thing could only happen to you. How’d you figure it out?” 

And so, Ben tells his brother the whole story. He tells him about calling Leslie into his office and then her stapling her finger, tells him about how they’d lost themselves for a moment, suddenly trading stories about their separate lives because in a way, they weren't so separate at all. They’d both been through so much, but even though they were divided by a few states, they’d gone through it all together. They always have and the most fucked up part of it all, is that they still will. 

“So, what are you gonna do now?” 

Ben shakes his head even though he knows Henry can’t see him. He’s been asking himself the same question ever since Leslie left his office this afternoon.  

“I don’t know.” he admits quietly. His whisper bounces off the walls of the room and looms over him, threatening to haunt him for the rest of the night. 

“Yeah…” Henry says. His response somehow makes everything a thousand times more hellish, because Henry always knows what to say and now he’s lost for words. Admittedly Ben’s pretty lost too. 

Ben’s beginning to think that either the universe is out to get him or it most definitely made some sort of gigantic mistake because Leslie Knope cannot possibly be his soulmate. Ben doesn't know a lot about love, but he does know this; soulmates are certainly not supposed to hate each other.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my two lovely betas, supervanillabear31 and fourthinobesity, for looking over this for me. You guys are the best!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Happy Friday :)

The days quickly stretch into two months and before Ben’s even really aware of it, the leaves on the trees begin to change and the sweet, warm air of summer is replaced by the crisp, slightly chilling air of fall. It seems that wherever he goes, he’s met with the smells of burning leaves and wood-fire smoke, but he doesn't mind. This has always been his favorite time of the year, with it’s equal amounts of sunshine and swirling winds, but it’s not quite yet so windy that he has to face the stinging and raw currents of winter. Everything is peaceful, just the way he likes it.

Other than the favorable shift in weather, everything else in Ben’s life is a complete disaster right now. Sure, Pawnee Government is looking better than it has in years, and he’ll be able to go back home within the next month or two, but it somehow doesn't feel like enough. He feels like he was able to repair mostly everything, but there’s still a gaping hole in the system. There’s something that’s just off kilter and needs to be set straight before he and Chris can move on, away from this strange place and off to another nameless town in Indiana. Life goes on, he supposes, and he might as well just go with it. 

Chris, on the other hand, seems much happier than Ben is; he spends most of his free time tracking down Ann Perkins, the same brunette who Ben had caught comforting Leslie on that day he fired her all those weeks ago. Ann hates Ben, which doesn't really phase him, but it does, however, upset Chris a great deal. Ben’s been asked on several different occasions now to just _please try and talk to her_ because she’s _wonderful and incredible and extremely beautiful._

Ben’s tried on several different occasions now to engage in converstaion, always saying hello when she walks into the room, but Ann ignores him every single time, so he thinks it’s safe to say that she still hates him. He isn't too worried about it though. 

The only opinion of him that he truly cares about right now is Leslie’s, and that isn't exactly looking too great at the moment. He hasn't heard from her since she left his office weeks ago, but, then again, he hasn't really reached out to her either. He wants to apologize, but what exactly is he supposed to say? _Hey, sorry about firing you, but I can’t give you your job back. Oh, and while we’re at it, maybe we can grab lunch sometime and talk about this whole soulmates thing? It’s crazy right?!_

It would be a complete understatement to say that Ben has absolutely no idea what to do. On the one hand, he wants to talk to Leslie because apparently they’re meant to be together, but on the other hand, he understands why she’d want to keep her distance. 

In the end, Ben decides that the ball is ultimately in her court. If she wants to reach out, he will most definitely answer, but if she wants nothing to do with him either, he can respect that too. It’s not like he’s going to be in Pawnee forever anyways; there will be another town after this one and even another one after that. It’s an endless cycle and he’s bound to meet someone else at one point or another. 

He hopes.

***

On a particularly chilly morning in October, Ben wakes up to a line of hickeys on his neck. He looks at himself in the mirror and rubs his hands over the bruises that begin at his jawline and end just below his collarbone, trying not to think too hard about Leslie’s night last night. For some reason, the thought of her having sex with some faceless stranger really bothers Ben, and he sighs in deep frustration. 

It’s really hard for him to separate Leslie from Soul, because while he dislikes one of them, he’s always had a soft spot for the other. Finding out that they’re actually the same person did really strange things for his mind. Of course the universe would try to torture him like this; it’s been torturing him for years, so why stop now? 

“Ben Wyatt!” Chris says as soon as Ben steps into City Hall. “I was wondering if I could ask you to do me a small favor.” 

“I don’t really have time to make sure you don't choke on your multivitamin right now, Chris.” Ben says, looking down at his watch and finding that he’s already late for a budget meeting with the Parks Department. 

“No, no, it isn't that, silly!” Chris says, adding something about how he doesn't take his vitamins until lunchtime anyways. “I was wondering if you’d come to the Snakehole Lounge with me and Ann tonight? Leslie’s going to be there and maybe if Ann sees you apologize…” 

“No, Chris! Absolutely not.” 

Ben hasn't exactly told anyone about the whole soulmates thing, and he doesn't think Leslie has either because all of City Hall seems pretty oblivious. In fact, he’d bet a lot of money that only four people in the entire world actually know about it: Leslie, Ann, Henry and himself. 

“Why not?”

“Because…” Ben says, putting a hand to his forehead and trying to think of a reasonable excuse, but coming up short. 

“I’m sorry,” he says finally turning away because he can’t stand here and look at Chris’s crestfallen expression one moment longer. He heads, instead, towards certain death, because he’s still pretty sure the entire Parks Department would like nothing more than to see his head on a stake. He honestly fears for his life every single time he’s in there, especially around Ron because Ron definitely seems like the kind of guy that could kill someone. 

“Stupid Ben is here,” April announces as soon as he walks in. There’s a collective groan from everyone else, and April hisses at him for good measure. 

“Can we just get this over with?” he says, ignoring April and turning to Ron who nods once before stepping into the conference room. Ben follows behind and the rest of the department watches through the windows as they each take a seat. Ben swears he hears Jerry mutter something about Leslie to Tom before the door of the conference room closes fully, but he tries to ignore it. 

“So we really wanted to meet with the heads of each department to discuss some budgetary-”

“It should be Leslie you’re talking to.” Ron interrupts, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

_Oh, goodie! So, this is how this meeting’s gonna go._

“Ron, you know that isn't an option. Now if we can please-”

“You should have fired me instead.” Ron says simply, cutting him off once more. 

“And why’s that?”

“I have the highest paycheck in this department and I never do any work.” 

“Why are you telling me this? You’re seriously willing to put your job at risk just so that Leslie can potentially get hers back?” Ben asks, completely baffled. In all of his years working for the state, everyone’s protected their own jobs at all costs, no matter what the circumstances. It isn't like he blames them, but there’s something about what Ron’s doing that really makes Ben feel small. It makes him feel like Leslie really is loved here and he took away an important asset from this department, perhaps even the most important asset.

“Yes.” Ron replies. “I value two things above all else; honesty and hard-work. I would be lying if I told you that I deserve my job more than Leslie deserves hers. She works hard and she gets things done.”

“But if you value hard-work so much, why don't _you_ work harder?”

“Because I don’t give a damn about government. Leslie does.” 

Ben feels his insides twist at Ron’s words, and he thinks back to a time when he too was more interested in public service than his own self-interests. There’s always been a part of him that’s wanted to reach that level of optimism again, but he knows how dangerous it is.

“Well, it’s good to be selfless, but you can’t break the system too much. Only bad things come from that,” Ben says, thinking about the day he was impeached as mayor. “In fact, it’s probably for her own good. She can’t get hurt now.” 

“She’s already hurt, son. I think you’re just biased because of that Snow Palace place you built.” 

“Ice Town?” Ben asks, growing more uneasy by the second because it feels like more people than he’d like seem to know about his past. 

“Leslie told me about it,” Ron says and Ben puts his face into his hands.

_How many other people has she told?_

“Oh,” he sighs, feeling like he’s definitely losing this argument.

“Not everyone makes the same mistakes.” Ron says and soon after that, Ben leaves the office without even having discussed the budget with Ron at all. 

The words repeat themselves in his brain like a mantra: _Not everyone makes the same mistakes._

_Not everyone makes the same mistakes._

***

It rains that night, and Ben’s motel room is darker and gloomier than usual, somehow reflecting his feelings perfectly. He sits in his usual corner on the floor, charging his laptop and only cursing at the useless socket closer to his bed on a few occasions. 

He finds himself running a finger up and down the trail of hickeys on his neck several times, lost in thought and not really paying attention to his Star Trek fanfiction. It’s pretty hard to write about Data and Captain Picard right now, when so many other things are invading his mind. 

Suddenly there’s a loud knock at his door, and thunder claps in the background. It kind of feels like he’s in a horror movie. Next thing he knows, a clown will be climbing out of his floorboards holding an ouija board or something. (He doesn't really watch scary movies, if you couldn’t tell). 

“Just a second!” he yells to who he assumes is Chris; it’s not like anyone else here would come to pay him a visit. When he opens the door, however, he’s more than surprised to see his brother on the other side of it, holding a six pack of beers and smiling. 

“Henry!?” 

“Surprise!” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ben asks, completely baffled as he steps aside to let his brother in. “And how did you know what room I’m in?” 

“Chris called.” Henry explains, and Ben audibly groans. Henry and Chris often team up on him, and it’s never a good thing.“He says you’ve been all mopey lately.” 

“Well, according to the two of you I’m always mopey,” Ben says grumpily. He sits on the edge of his bed and waits expectantly for his brother to further explain. 

“Yes, well, he says you're even mopier than you usually are and I didn’t think that was humanly possible so I decided to come see for myself. Turns out he was right,” Henry says, nudging Ben’s shoulder in that annoying big-brotherly way he always does. 

“I am not!” Ben argues, practically stomping his foot on the ground as he does so. Henry raises his eyebrows at him.

“What, are you going to throw a tantrum now too?” 

“I might!” Ben says, his blood boiling. He’d really like Chris to stop calling his brother every time he thinks Ben is sad; that is _not_ the reason he gave him Henry’s number. 

“Look,” Henry says, softer this time, which somehow makes Ben even more angry and annoyed. “I know why you’re upset and you have every right to be. I mean, from the moment you learned you had a soulmate, you haven’t shut up about her.” 

“This has nothing to do with Leslie.” 

“Oh, so then what is it?”

Ben doesn't answer, and Henry nods. 

“That’s what I thought. Now, we’re going to get you out of this room and put some alcohol in your system.” 

“Can’t we just stay here?” Ben protests, not really feeling like going to a bar at the moment. “We can just drink the beer you brought with you.” 

“I brought that for later.” Henry says, forcing Ben out the door against his will. 

“Later?! It’s already 8:00! How much do you think I’m going to be drinking?” 

Henry just rolls his eyes and doesn't answer, pulling up his hood and walking briskly back to his car. Ben follows, shivering in the cold and wishing his brother had at least let him grab his coat before leaving because by the time he climbs into the passenger seat, he’s drenched in rainwater and his hair is matted against his face. 

“There’s a pretty nice bar just around the corner,” Ben says, but Henry ignores him.

“Nah, we’re going to the Snakehole Lounge. Chris told me he’s going to be there tonight and I haven't seen him in forever so…”

“No! Henry, we can’t go there. Leslie’s going to be there tonight!” Ben says, remembering all too clearly his and Chris’s discussion just this morning, but Henry’s face lights up brilliantly. 

“That makes it even better! I’ve been dying to see what Benji’s little crush looks like.” 

“I do not have a crush on her!” 

“Uh huh,” Henry says, backing up the car and driving at least thirty miles over the speed limit, meaning that they get to the club within a matter of minutes. Before Ben even has time to collect himself, Henry has an ironclad grip on his upper arm and is hoisting him out of the car and towards the Snakehole, where the noises and lights from within are already giving Ben a killer headache. He groans internally but allows himself to be manhandled, figuring that maybe he _could_ use a beer or two. 

Turns out, the beer drinking is a royally bad idea. At first, Henry hands him a few Miller Lights and it’s just enough to take the edge off, but as the night progresses Ben just gets more and more drunk, until his vision is effectively blurred and he’s tripping over his own two feet, slurring every other word. 

Ben, luckily, is neither an angry nor sad drunk. On the contrary, Henry tells him all the time that he’s hilarious when he’s had one too many beers; he tends to become more goofy and at ease in his own skin, which admittedly Ben doesn't mind at all. He likes how light it makes him feel.

“Leslie!” he yells across the room, spotting her for the first time all night, on the dance floor swaying her hips rhythmically. At this point, he’s on beer number nine and completely wasted, meaning that he does things like yell to the woman he just fired two months ago like it’s no big deal.

“Ben?” she giggles, coming over to his table and sliding into the booth right next to him, as if they have no animosity between them at all whatsoever. This is his first indication that she, too, has had too much alcohol.

“Hi,” he says, breaking down into a fit of giggles. 

“What?” Leslie slurs, a smile making it’s way onto her lips as well. Her eyes are big, blue, and full of life and Ben feels himself getting lost in them.

“Do you ‘member when you stapled your finger?” 

This makes Leslie throw back her head and laugh a laugh that’s louder than life. It’s more of a cackle, really, and Ben gets swept up along with it. 

“Yes, sir, I sure do.”

Henry chooses this moment to come back to the table with even more beers in hand. There’s an attractive redhead on his arm, who’s looking at Henry like he’s the sun, but he isn't even paying her much attention. Ben loves Henry and all, but he’s kind of a player; it’s one of his only faults, and a big one at that. 

“Oh! Who’s this?” Henry asks, handing Ben yet another Miller Lite, which he accepts without a complaint because ten beers is clearly a good idea. 

“Leserlie Knope,” she introduces herself, holding out her arm proudly and then proceeding to burp right in Henry’s face. 

“Wow.” Henry says, his laugh booming across the room as he takes her hand in his. “So, you're the famous Leslie. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

“Famous?” Leslie asks, turning back to look at Ben and offering him a dopey smile, which he returns almost at once because he has no control over his stupid facial muscles at the moment. 

“Yup. Superdy-Duperdy famous. I told Henry _all_ about you.” 

“Wha’d you say?” she asks, her curls spilling out of her bun as she leans closer to him, looking into his eyes like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the world. Ben never once breaks the contact. 

“I mostly told him how annoying you are,” he admits but Leslie just snickers. 

“Ditto.” she says, using a voice that’s much more high-pitched than her own. “I tell Ann all the time that I think you're a stupid jerkus-alerkus.” 

A new song begins to play and Leslie noticeably becomes excited. 

“Ooh! I loooooove this song. Come dance with me.” 

She drags him out of the booth, and they stumble, giggling, over to the dance floor, clutching onto each other the entire way because neither of them can walk in such an inebriated state. 

He puts his hands on her waist, delighting in the comforting warmth that seems to radiate from her skin and meets her eyes as she interlocks her fingers behind his neck. They’re pressed up against one another, neither having decided to leave room for the Holy Spirit in this dance, and it feels…nice. It’s almost like their bodies were made for each other, which Ben supposes that they really are, them being soulmates and all. 

“Sorry ‘bout these,” Leslie slurs, running her fingertips along the hickeys on his neck in a way that makes his skin crawl with goosebumps- the good kind. 

Their faces are inches from one another as they sway back and forth and all Ben would have to do to kiss her is bend down just slightly and brush his lips against hers, but for some reason he holds back. It isn't time yet.

_Since when is he thinking ‘yet’ when it comes to Leslie?_

The song ends and Leslie takes his hand in hers, leading him away from the dance floor and completely out of the building, telling him that she needs some fresh air. Her teeth immediately begin to chatter, and Ben has no coat to offer her, so he wraps her up in his arms, rubbing her back and trying to make all of her goosebumps disappear. He swears he can hear her sigh into his chest, where her head seems to fit perfectly, her ear just over his heart. He wonders if she can feel how loudly it’s thumping. 

“I wanna go to Harvey James Park,” she declares suddenly, and she turns away from Ben’s arms to jump into a nearby puddle. The rain has simmered to a slight sprinkle, and Leslie looks up to the sky, sticking out her tongue so that that the droplets can land on it, as if it’s snowing instead.

“Let’s do it!” Ben agrees, nodding his head more than what’s necessary, but his neck doesn't seem to know when to stop. She intertwines their fingers once more and they skip, yes literally _skip_ , to Harvey James Park, which is only a few hundred feet away. Every once in a while they land in a puddle, and they laugh as the water splashes up against their calves, both of them shivering but neither of them caring. 

“We’re like little ducklings!” Leslie sings. 

“No,” Ben amends, turning serious for a fraction of a second. “ _You’re_ like a little duckling. I’m like the old, cranky grandpa duck.” 

“At least you know your place in this world,” Leslie agrees and Ben grabs her by the waist, laughing.

“Hey! You weren't supposed to agree to that.” he teases. 

They’re at the park now, just on the outskirts of the lake and Ben can hear the incessant patter of the rain on the water’s surface. 

“Oh yeah?” Leslie asks all low and coy. “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” 

“I’ll throw you in the lake.” 

“I triple dog dare you,” she counters and Ben scoops her up in his arms, catching her completely off guard, and he begins walking closer to the water.

“You doubt me?” 

“No! I don't doubt you! Please don’t throw me in there!” Leslie squeals, but the smile never leaves her face as she wraps her legs around his middle and squeezes tightly, hanging on for dear life and _oh no this was not a good idea._ Their bodies are pressed flush against one another, the thin, sopping wet fabric of their clothes barely doing anything to reduce the contact. 

“Fine. I won’t do it on one condition,” Ben tells her, his fingers digging more into her sides, but in a way he knows isn't painful. It’s more like he’s applying pressure, using any excuse to touch her more.

“And what condition would that be?” 

“You apologize.”

Leslie shakes her head.

“Uh uh, not happening mister.” 

Ben releases her slightly, but then grabs ahold of her again, pretending to drop her into the water but catching her at the last moment and she squeals, digging her feet deeper into his back. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she yells, burying her face into his neck and trying to contain her giggles, but failing horribly. 

“Hmmm, apology accepted,” he says, and he places her back down, but as soon as he does so there seems to be a shift in their behavior. Both of them are not as drunk as they were; the effects of the alcohol are beginning to clear up, making their heads less foggy. 

“Oh god,” Ben says, realizing suddenly where he is. “I’m so sorry.” 

Leslie’s lips are purple and quivering when she looks up at him, and her face too begins to fall. 

“I think we should go back to the club now,” she says softly and Ben agrees, wishing that he was brave enough to wrap an arm around her again so that she might warm up, but he seems to have left his courage back at the water, where the rain still drips rhythmically, as if reminding him how loud his life had seemed at that moment. 

Ben stops once they reach the front doors and turns to face Leslie.

“Is there any chance we can talk about everything tomorrow?” he asks because he at least has to try. 

Leslie looks into his face for a moment, as if considering his words, but then she shakes her head and reaches for the door handle, refusing to even meet his eyes. 

“I don’t know what got into me tonight, but they must’ve put something really strong in that Snork Juice, because I really want nothing to do with you,” she says and then she walks inside, leaving Ben feeling more alone than ever.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to my beautiful betas. 
> 
> Kudos and comments, as always, are so, super appreciated! You're all the best. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your continued support!! <3

As soon as Ben opens his eyes, he wants nothing more than to immediately shut them again and sleep for the rest of eternity. His head is pounding so much it feels as though his brain is going to burst straight through his skull, and his stomach is doing this weird flip-flopping thing that makes him immediately rip the blankets from his body and rush into the bathroom at top speed, which admittedly isn’t very fast at all, as he’s feeling particularly sluggish at the moment.

Ben can’t remember feeling this shitty in ages, which he supposes only makes sense because he’s technically feeling the effects of two hangovers right now, rather than just one. He mentally punches himself for ever letting Henry put so much alcohol into his system, and he seriously begins to consider never picking up another drink again, because this is hell. Idly, he wonders how Leslie’s handling everything right now, and if she too is hunched over her toilet, groaning loudly and regretting all of her life decisions.

Once he’s upchucked everything he’s ever eaten, Ben rises on shaky knees and goes about his morning routine as usual, stopping only to examine the still prominent hickeys on his neck. He really wishes there was a better way to hide them, and he finds himself envying women who could just throw on a scarf or do some sort of magical make-up miracle he’s never been able to understand and then go about with their lives as usual, as if the bruises were never even there in the first place. Maybe he’ll ask Chris if he can borrow his concealer or something, but, knowing Chris, he’ll make some sort of comment about different skin tones and how Ben really should go out and buy his own, and Ben’s _not_ about to be found in any make-up aisles anytime soon. 

The worst part of the hickeys, though, isn't even the numerous, judgmental stares they earn him, but rather the fact that every single time he sees them, he’s reminded of Leslie. He understands why she wouldn't want to be around him, but for so long he’s been dying to meet Soul, and now the universe has granted him this small miracle. Of course, now it’s turning into a disaster, just like everything else in his life. He shouldn't be this surprised really, because nothing ever goes right for him. Why should this be any different? Yet, he finds himself thinking about Leslie an unhealthy amount and imagining scenarios where they actually get along and laugh like they did last night, when their minds were clouded by alcohol and they lived in the spur of moment. 

He tries not to dwell too hard on it at the moment though, because any amount of thinking is like physical torture, and he’s almost positive his head’s going to explode everywhere if he keeps it up. Instead he sighs, throws up one more time and gingerly walks out to his car, cursing the sun and anything bright. 

He gets to work a full twenty minutes later than usual, which is very uncharacteristic of him, but it’s only because he had to stop twice to hurl on the side of the road before actually pulling into the City Hall parking lot. Once he actually reaches his office, his eyes are red-rimmed, and his hair is somehow even messier than usual.

Chris, however, takes no notice of his clearly hungover state, and immediately starts jabbering excitedly about something or another, talking far too loudly for Ben’s head’s liking. 

“So, do you think you're going to take it?” Chris asks, and it’s only then that Ben realizes he wasn't even really paying attention.

“Take what?”

“The assistant city manager job they’re offering you!” Chris shouts jovially, but then something must click in his mind because he turns serious and eyes Ben suspiciously. “Are you okay, buddy? You look like you could use some omega-3 fatty acids.” 

“Wait, they’re offering me a job? Here, in Pawnee?” Ben asks, his mind running at the speed of molasses, which is to say, not very fast at all. 

“Yes…” Chris says, but he’s lost his usual enthusiasm and continues to look Ben up and down. “You know what, screw the omega-3; we’re going to get you some vitamin-B instead.”

“Oh…I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Ben protests, but Chris is already coming towards him with an elephant-sized capsule. There isn’t much Ben can do to stop it all from happening. He groans and tries to push Chris off, but his arms are ridiculously weak right now, and Chris practically forces the pill down his throat anyways, seemly oblivious to Ben’s demurral. 

“There you go! You’ll be better in no time!” 

He’s not.

***

He’s been debating taking the job for the better part of a week now, and he’s still completely unsure of what to do. Even pro and con lists have failed him, which is a rarity, and he’s left with barely anything to go on at all. All his pros and cons are relatively balanced, meaning that it’s hard to lean towards one decision more than the other. On the one hand, he’s been looking to settle down for a while now, but on the other hand, Leslie is here, and he’s beginning to believe that it would be better for them both if they never saw each other ever again. Honestly, he thinks the only reason she hasn't punched him yet is because if she did, she would also have to suffer the blow. 

He tries not to let his thoughts drift to Leslie very often because it only brings him down, but today, it’s pretty hard not to think about her. Nineteen years ago, to the very day, he’d been pulled from the first round of baseball try-outs, shivering and crying, inconsolable because something unspeakable had happened to Soul, and he felt pain like he’d never known before. All he’d known was that pain like that should not exist; no one should ever have to feel like that, and yet, she did. 

Even years later, the question still gnaws at his mind: What the hell happened to her?

Ben calls out of work as soon as he wakes up in the morning; he’ll never be able to make it through the day because he’s always shared Leslie’s hurt with her on this particular anniversary. It’s the kind of hurt that runs deep and makes you feel so vividly until you can no longer feel anything at all.

It feels…strange being so close to her but not being able to do anything to comfort her. Maybe that’s why he grabs his keys off his bedside table and leaves the motel without so much as a second thought, making a quick stop at the package store before pulling into Leslie’s driveway- more determined than ever.

_Wait, what the fuck? How’d he get here? Stupid feet, stop walking towards her house!!_

His feet don’t listen, but instead walk confidently up the steps of her porch, and the next thing Ben knows, he’s ringing the doorbell, a brown paper bag filled with alcohol in his hands, as if it wasn’t that exact thing that had caused so many problems just a week ago.

The door opens, and his breath hitches. There’s no going back now.

“Ben?” 

Leslie’s standing in the doorway, clad in a t-shirt and sleeping shorts, which both look like they’ve seen better days, and hair pulled up into a messy bun. A few stray curls sneak out of the bun and frame her face, which is puffy and wet, as if she’s been crying.

_Of course she’s been crying, you idiot._

“Um, hi,” Ben says, lamely, shuffling on his feet.

“Not today, Ben,” she says, going to shut the door in his face. “You can do this any other day, just not today.”

“No, hang on a sec!” he says, reaching out to prevent her from closing the door fully. “I’ll leave, but I just wanted to give you this first.” 

He hands her the bag of alcohol, which she takes, looking inside skeptically.

“What’s this?” 

“Booze.”

She looks confused, and Ben trips over his words, trying to explain.

“It’s not poisoned or anything! Trust me, that would be suicide for me too. I just…well I just thought you could use it today, that’s all.” 

And then he lets go of the door and offers her a sad smile before turning to walk away. It isn't until he’s halfway down the driveway that she calls out to him.

“Wait!” 

He turns around to find her exactly where he left her, except now her lip is quivering and she’s openly sobbing, clutching at the bag of alcohol like it’s her only lifeline.

“Are- are you…”

“This is b-bonkers,” Leslie hiccups, “but will you please stay with me? Just for a few m-minutes.” 

“Of course.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even process what’s happening, and suddenly he’s walking back towards the house, taking the alcohol from her grasp and following her inside.

The inside of Leslie’s house, he discovers, is completely chaotic. It’s actually more like a scary, nightmare hoarder’s nest, to be completely honest, but he gets the feeling that right now isn't the best time to confront her about it, even though there’s a lot of potential for disaster to happen. There’s a pile of birdhouses in one corner that appear to be dangerously on the edge of falling over and causing a chain reaction of other things to happen, most likely resulting in a house fire or something of that nature. 

“I didn’t really want to be alone today,” Leslie confesses, and even though he barely knows her, really, she seems so different from her usual self today. Her usual crazy energy has been replaced with a sluggishness, and her eyes have lost their brightness. 

“I completely understand,” Ben tells her, his nervousness coming back in full now that he’s inside her house. It all feels so surreal, like it isn't even happening at all. His hands begin to shake, and his pulse quickens.

_He’s inside Soul’s house._

“Usually my mom and I spend the day together, but she’s up in Muncie for a business trip this year, so it’s just me.” 

“Oh,” Ben says, not really sure how else to respond. He’s aware of how thin the waters he’s treading on right now are. One missed step, and this whole thing is completely ruined.

“And Ann’s in Michigan visiting her parents, so she couldn't come either.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. I obviously don't know what happened, but I, um, I know this day is really rough for you.” 

Leslie nods, and more tears spill down her cheeks. Ben isn't really sure what to do, so he stands off to the side awkwardly as she wipes her eyes and tries to compose herself. 

“I-I can leave if you…”

“No!” she says, grabbing onto his arm. “Please don’t go. I really don’t want to be alone.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, strangely relieved that she’d asked him to stay. 

“Thanks,” she sighs, releasing his arm and taking the alcohol from his hands, setting it down at her kitchen table. “I don't think you and I need anymore of this stuff.”

Leslie offers him a coffee instead, and Ben accepts with a small chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s probably a smart choice.” 

A silence hangs over them then, and while it does have the hints of being awkward, it’s also comfortable. They’re grieving, but they’re doing it together, and they don’t need words to fill every moment. They’re bound together for some reason, by some seemingly random choice of the universe, and it makes the silence not so loud and noticeable as it would be in any other situation.

It’s then, as they exchange something that isn't even words, that Ben begins to understand why he and Leslie might be soulmates at all. He feels…connected to her, and he somehow just knows she feels the same way. It’s the reason she asked him to come inside, and it’s the reason she still hasn't kicked him out.

“It’s all so weird, isn't it?” Leslie says finally, the first to break the silence. 

He doesn't even have to ask what she’s talking about; he already knows.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I never thought I’d actually ever meet you. I mean, most people don’t.” 

“I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it,” Leslie admits, and her voice is small. “I mean, you fired me, and now…” 

“I’m really sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure it wasn't just your decision.” Leslie says, and this, if anything, shocks Ben the most. He isn't sure what he’d been expecting when he apologized, but forgiveness certainly wasn't it. It doesn't feel like he should’ve been forgiven, and he almost fights her on it, but he decides to save that for another day. 

“C’mon, I wanna show you something,” she says suddenly, taking his hand and leading him into the living room where she shoves several things off the couch, making room for them to sit. One of those things looks suspiciously like a stuffed raccoon, but Ben doesn't even question it. 

“This is a scrapbook I made when I was in sixth grade.”

Leslie places the book in his lap, and then settles down beside him. Their legs are touching, and Ben stares at her for a moment before looking down, and gasping softly at what he sees. It’s a beautiful scrapbook, especially considering the artist was only eleven years old at the time, but that’s not what makes Ben forget how to breathe. It’s the red-stenciled lettering that races across the cover that sends a shiver down his spine. 

_I miss you, Daddy._

Beneath the words is a picture of a girl who can’t be more than six, smiling proudly up at a man who’s unmistakably her father. They both have the same nose, and hers hasn't changed at all throughout the years. Her shockingly blonde hair is the same too; Ben would recognize it anywhere. 

“Leslie, I-”

“He died when I was ten.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, but words don't feel like enough. He puts an arm around her shoulders, and she burrows closer into his side. 

“He was in a car accident. They say he was killed on impact, so it’s not like he suffered or anything, but still…”

The silence surrounds them once more, and Ben begins to thumb through he pages of the scrapbook, his other arm still secured comfortingly around her. Her breath hitches with every turn of the page, and she runs her fingers lightly over a few of the pictures, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she recalls the distant memories of her father. 

“I n-never even got to say goodbye,” she chokes. 

***

He throws down a yellow three triumphantly. 

“Take that, Knope!” 

“Benjamin Wyatt, you cheater-pants!!” Leslie shouts, throwing down her cards in defeat, but there’s a playful glint behind her eyes. “You must teach me your sneaky ways.”

“A true magician never reveals his tricks.” 

_Luck. This magician’s trick was luck._

They’ve been playing board games for the better part of three hours, trying in vain to distract themselves from their own sadness, and somehow it’s working. The pain is still there for sure, but it’s less prominent now, like it’s hiding in the corner. 

“I’m getting bored of Uno,” Leslie announces.

“It’s just because you’re losing,” he teases, and she slaps him on the arm.

“Is not!” 

“Oh it most definitely is, and you know it, Knope,” he retorts, but she pretends not to hear him as she rummages through her board game closet again, which is terrifying by the way; no one should have that many games, and this is coming from Ben Wyatt.

“What about Scrabble? Ooh or Boggle!” 

“Scrabble,” Ben answers immediately, having played far too much Boggle with Chris over the years.  Somehow, though, they don't even end up playing either, choosing instead to share stories and ask questions about particular injuries, which certainly makes for many laughs. 

“So wait, let me get this straight,” Ben says as Leslie giggles uncontrollably. “You broke your nose by running into a pole, and then a few weeks later, after it was all healed, you broke it again by running into the same exact pole?” 

“Maybe.” 

“So, yes?” 

“Says the man who stepped on a garden hoe, and it came swinging up and hit him on the face like in cartoons.” 

“Shut up!” he chuckles. “At least I didn’t over-swing and hit myself in the head with my own tennis racket.” 

“I regret ever telling you that.” 

“I don’t. It’s perfect leverage if I ever need to blackmail you,” he bumps his shoulder into hers playfully.

“If you ever tell anyone about that, I’ll tell them about the time you broke your arm doing _air guitar.”_

“You wouldn’t!” 

“Oh, I super would, Wyatt.” 

They talk like that for hours, neither caring that their butts are beginning to get sore from sitting on the floor for too long, and it isn't until the sun disappears over the horizon that Ben glances at his watch and figures it’s time to get going.

“I should, uh…”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Leslie says, scrambling to get up. “I-I had fun with you today. Thank you.” 

“Me too,” he tells her, and then there’s this awkward moment where neither of them can decide if they should hug or not so they end up shaking hands as if they’ve just secured an important business deal or something.  

“I’ll see you around, I guess,” Ben says, offering a small wave before he heads out to his car.

“Hey! Hang on,” Leslie says, appearing in the doorway. “Maybe we can, um, do this again sometime?” 

“I would like that,” he says with a smile.

He really, really would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr if you'd like: Benjis-Cool-Times :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little silly, and I hope you like it! Thank you so much for your lovely kudos and comments so far. They all made me smile so much <3 <3

Ben doesn't see Leslie again until four days after spending the afternoon with her, but when he finally does, it isn't exactly by choice; it’s actually because a calcified rock manages to find it’s way into his penis, and they both end up in the hospital, gasping in pain and swearing loudly.

_Yeah, it’s a long story._

He’d been at work when it all happened, in the middle of a meeting, when all of a sudden he’d felt this urgent need to pee. Come to think of it, he’d actually been peeing quite a bit all morning, but he’d dismissed it entirely, attributing it to nothing more than the extra cup of coffee he’d had that morning. 

Next thing he knew, he was doubled over in the City Hall bathroom, holding his groin protectively and telling Chris, who’d just happened to step in, that he was giving birth to twins. That’s how he finds himself here, in the hospital bed next to Leslie’s, surrounded by too many doctors and medical assistants who are all asking too many questions and barely doing anything to help with the severity of the situation. 

_Okay, so maybe it wasn't that long of a story._

It doesn't help that one of the doctors is completely flanked by a group of awe-inspired students, who are all jumping eagerly at any chance to prove themselves. 

“Diagnosis?” the doctor asks. 

“Nephrolithiasis,” one of the students replies, to which everyone else nods their head in agreement.

_Nephro-what?_

“Which is more commonly known as…?”

“Kidney stones,” a girl in the back says, and the doctor rewards her with a warm smile.

“You got it! Now, how do we treat it?” 

_Seriously? This isn’t fucking Grey’s Anatomy._

Leslie, who’s apparently thinking along the same lines as Ben is, lets out a low growl and demands that they get a move on before she “explodes into eight-million pieces and they’ll have to clean her guts off the floor and walls”. 

Her words, not his, but he’s thankful for them all the same because they make the doctors finally leap into action, all of them apologizing profusely; it’s just that none of them have ever really worked with two soulmates in person before, and it’s fascinating apparently. 

“So how exactly am I feeling this too?” Leslie asks through gritted teeth as she rolls onto her side in an effort to make herself more comfortable. 

“Well I’m sure you're feeling pain in your lower back and stomach as well, but the region you’re referring to,” the doctor says, gesturing towards his own groin, “is a bit trickier. It’s actually kind of like a phantom limb. Most times, when someone looses an arm or leg, they still feel like it’s there even though it’s not, and it might ache or itch at seemingly random times. This is not much different. Even though you don’t have testes, you can still feel the pain in Ben’s because you’re soulmates.” 

“Well, make it stop please,” Leslie says. 

The doctor chuckles and pats her knee. “We’re working on it. We’re going to give you both some morphine, and unfortunately we have to wait for the kidney stones to pass on their own. If that doesn’t work then we’ll go from there; sound good?” 

“Yes. Morphine. Now,” Ben manages to get out, and seriously, why couldn't they have told him this twenty minutes ago? He’s been in pain long enough, and so has Leslie.

A student comes at him then, a needle in hand. Even though Ben’s always hated shots, he eagerly holds out his arm. The next thing he knows, everything is warm and fuzzy, and the burning sensation below his waist disappears. He smiles dopily and looks over to Leslie, who too, looks like she’s on cloud nine. 

_And where the heck has this stuff been all his life?_

***

“Hi, Lesslie,” Ben slurs, and she turns to face him, a dreamy, far-away look in her eyes. 

_Wow, her eyes are so, so blue. Like, super blue._

“Hello, Benjamin,” she replies in all seriousness, but then she loses her collected composure and breaks out into a fit of giggles, which she tries (and fails) to suppress by putting her hand over her mouth. The sound makes Ben smile too, and soon they’re laughing together, not a care in the world that there are actual rocks lodged inside his dick. 

“What’s up, Lesliemin?” he asks, but before she can answer, Ann comes into the room, fully clad in sky-blue scrubs, and Leslie turns her attention towards her instead.

“Ann! Oh, beautiful Ann,” Leslie says, taking ahold of her best friends hand. “Did you hear? Ben’s got rocks in his penis! Rocks!” 

“Yes, Leslie, I know. I drove you here, remember?” 

“Ohhhh yeah,” she says, her face lighting up in recollection, “And we saw Michael Jackson in the car next to us!” 

“No, that didn’t happen,” Ann says with a shake of her head. 

Ben watches the exchange with fascination, paying special attention to the way Leslie’s hair seems to glisten in the opalescent hospital lights. Love is in the air, he decides; he can just tell. 

“Okay you two,” Ann says, “I have other patients to check on, but I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. No sneaky shenanigans while I’m gone, you hear me?”

“Ann, you silly, sophisticated porcupine, do I look like the type of person to engage in shenanigans? I don’t need any sort of scandals before I make the State of the Union Address.” 

“You aren’t the president,” Ann reminds her. 

“Yet,” Ben supplies because she _will_ be president; he’s sure of it.

Ann just shakes her head and backs slowly out of the room, reminding them that she’s tied patients to the beds before, and she’s not afraid to do it again, so they shouldn't even be thinking about doing anything sneaky, or else. Once she’s gone, Leslie turns back to Ben, smiling deviously. 

“I think we should do something sneaky,” she says, and Ben immediately agrees. It’s as if Ann hadn't even been there at all. “Maybe we should steal something; that’s sneaky right?”

“Like Jell-o!” Ben shouts, all too happy. 

“Yes! We can steal some hospital Jell-o, in every color of course! I hear you just have to tickle the pear on the painting to get into the kitchens, and then the house-elves will give you any food that you could possibly want!” 

“I heard the same thing!” Ben says proudly. “Fred and George Weasley told me.” 

“Alright, let’s go,” Leslie leaps up from her bed and takes Ben’s hand into her own, pulling him from the comfort of his sheets. “We have to be careful, though; we can’t get caught.” 

“Okay,” Ben agrees, nodding perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. He stares down at their hands and marvels in how nice Leslie’s feels in his own; it’s small and warm and perfect, and he smiles. 

They get caught.

They _super_ get caught. 

In fact, they don't even make it to the end of the hallway before Ann catches them in the act and ushers them back into their room. Leslie pouts and tries to explain that they were just on a Jell-o hunting mission, but she’s instantly placated when Ann promises to bring them both some in a little bit. Ben claps his hands at this news; he _really_ likes Jell-o. 

“Yay, Ann!” he shouts. 

“Shut your mouth, you; I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did,” Ann says, pointing her finger in Ben’s direction. His face instantly falls. 

“What’d I do?” 

“You should know,” Ann says, offering Leslie a small smile before she leaves the room once more.

“Seriously,” Ben asks, turning to Leslie, “What’d I do?” 

“I think she’s talking about that time you fired me.” 

_Oh yeah, that. He hasn't forgiven himself for that yet either._

“Oh. Well you know that wasn't all my fault right? And that I’m really sorry?” 

“Yeah,” Leslie says with a shrug of her shoulders, “But it still sucks. I mean I like you a lot, but I’m still having trouble getting over that part.” 

Ben considers this information for a moment, and, seriously, it feels like this morphine stuff is making his brain all mushy for some reason; he can’t seem to think fast enough.

“Well, is there any way I can fix it?” he asks finally. 

It’s Leslie’s turn to think now, and she gets momentarily distracted by a new episode of Cheers that plays on the television above them. She mumble-sings along to the theme song, and Ben watches her in awe. 

_She’s so pretty. Like a flower or a snugger-doodle or something. Seriously._

Finally, she turns her attention back to him. 

“Maybe if I hurt _you_ somehow, I’ll be able to look past the fact that you hurt me.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Ben tells her. “What were you thinking, specifically?” 

“Maybe if I can stab you in the leg with a scalpel…?” 

It’s a brilliant plan; perfect even, and Ben immediately sets out in search for a scalpel in the confines of their room while Leslie continues to watch Cheers, and seriously, why’s Cheers playing on their TV right now? Didn’t that show air in the eighties or something?

“Will this work?” Ben asks, pulling his swiss army knife from the pocket of his discarded jeans and finding the smallest, most scalpel-like blade. 

“Perfect.” 

Ben hands her the knife and settles back into bed, being sure to roll up the fabric of his hospital johnnie so that Leslie will have perfect access to his thigh. She crawls into bed with him, so that they’re sitting directly across from one another, Ben’s legs outstretched in front of him and hers folded, pretzel-like, beneath her. 

“Are you ready for this?” she asks.

“I was born ready, Knope.”

And then, she’s bringing her arm up into the air and swinging the knife down so that it impales itself directly into Ben’s thigh. Both of their legs begin to bleed, and they giggle. 

“I forgot that hurting you also hurts me,” Leslie sniggers. 

“I couldn't even really feel it,” Ben admits, staring at the knife, which is still standing upright in his flesh. The sight makes him laugh even harder.

“I’ll just have to do it again,” Leslie reasons, “Other leg?”

“Other leg,” Ben agrees. 

So, Leslie stabs him in the other leg too, and they giggle again, marveling at the excessive amounts of blood pooling at their thighs. Right then, though, Ann decides to walk in with their Jell-o, and she gasps audibly, dropping the cups on the floor.

“Oh my god. I left you two for five minutes and when I came back, you stabbed each other?” 

“Well, technically Leslie stabbed me- us.” Ben corrects her, but Ann doesn't pay him any mind. Instead, she steps into the hallway and calls for someone named Doctor Harris, who comes in immediately and stares at Ben’s impaled leg with a mixture of horror and fascination. 

Ben giggles and tells them all that love is everywhere and they might as well just succumb to the flow of the universe. Leslie nods her head eagerly from besides him. 

“In hindsight, we might’ve given them both too much morphine,”  Doctor Harris tells Ann, who nods solemnly. 

“I think you might be right.”

 ***

When Ben wakes up the next morning, the first thing he notices is that he’s not alone in his bed. The second thing he notices is that this isn't even his own bed at all; the mattress is too hard and the pillow is too lumpy to be his own. He cracks his eyes open, in the hopes that he can figure out where the hell he is, but he immediately shuts them again and tugs the too-lumpy pillow over his face, trying to block out the harsh, yellow rays of the sun.

Out of nowhere, a tiny arm snakes it’s way across his waist, and an equally tiny body presses itself further into his back, snuggling into him. The body is warm, and Ben pushes back into it, basking in its heat. There’s a cute grumble in his ear and Ben smiles, turning his head slightly and pulling back his eyelids once more.

What he sees both excites and terrifies him. Leslie is completely burrowed into his back, a strand of her blonde hair bouncing up and down her face with each breath she takes. His face is inches from hers as he tucks the stray hair behind her ear; he can’t help but to do it. It’s almost like he’s acting on impulse actually, with no real say in what his arm is doing. 

Leslie grumbles again, and she too opens her eyes. If she’s shocked to see him so close to her, she doesn't look it, although a slight flush does color her already freckled cheeks. 

“Good morning,” Ben says, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Leslie goes to pull her hand from where its secured around Ben’s stomach, but he stops her. 

“No, I like it,” he assures her. “Please don't move. Not yet.” 

Leslie hesitates for a moment, but then her body relaxes again. 

“Okay,” she responds, and then, because his neck is too uncomfortable in this unnatural position, Ben turns his head away from her, but he places his hand over hers to let her know he’s content. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

His legs hurt for some reason, and, really, his entire body aches, but Leslie is so warm, and that’s all that really matters to him right now.

They stay like that for a while, pressed against one another and not really speaking, but breathing in tune with one another and intertwining fingers occasionally, hands still splayed across his stomach. He wishes he could see her face, but her head is burrowed into the crook of his neck and he can’t stop smiling, so it’s okay.

It’s then that he realizes something. For the first time in a long time he’s…happy; like purely, genuinely happy, and it’s a feeling he’s almost learned to forget. Nothing this good has happened to him in a while, and he relishes it while he can, relishes it while Leslie still continues to let it happen. He gets a feeling, though, that she’s oddly happy too. 

“Alright, lovebirds,” Dr. Harris says, startling them both and causing Leslie to immediately rip her arm from around him. “How are your legs feeling?” 

“Shitty,” Ben responds, groggy. “But I don't know why.” 

“You mean to say that you actually don’t remember this one,” he points to Leslie, who looks at him with big innocent eyes, “stabbing you in both legs?” 

Then it all comes back to him; the morphine, the search for Jell-o, the swiss army knife and then, finally, the gaping wounds in each of his thighs. Leslie rips the blankets from her body and examines her own legs, groaning softly at what she finds.

“Crap on a clownfish! Wasn't that all just a dream?” 

“It was not,” Dr. Harris tells her, solemn. 

“And how’d I end up in Ben’s bed instead of mine?” Leslie asks, and Ben finally begins to wonder the same thing himself; how _had_ she ended up here? Not that he’s complaining or anything. 

“Well you refused to sleep in a bed without him in it.” 

“I- I what?” 

“No worries though,” Dr. Harris says, “It’s reasonable that you’d want to sleep with your boyfriend after everything you’ve both been through.” 

“My boyfriend?”

“Oh no,” Ben says, “No, we aren’t- um, we’re not…” 

“We aren't dating, no sir!” 

“My apologies,” Dr. Harris says, “I only assumed that because you're soulmates that you’d be together.” 

“Well we aren’t,” Leslie says. “He actually fired me a few weeks ago, but we’re working through it. That’s actually why I stabbed him in the legs.” 

“You stabbed him because he fired you?” 

“Well it was consensual; a consensual stabbing, right Ben?” 

“Yes,” Ben confirms, “Completely and utterly consensual.” 

“It was actually pretty therapeutic,” Leslie supplies, and Dr. Harris looks between them with a look of downright bewilderment.

“Uh, right of course,” he coughs and then he does a few routine examinations before hurriedly leaving the room, clearly looking to distance himself from the strange people he’s just interacted with. 

“Well, I guess I’ll get back to my own bed,” Leslie says once he’s exited the room, but Ben pulls her back gently by the wrist. 

“Or you could just stay here?” he suggests, and she doesn't even look torn this time; she just climbs back into his bed. 

“Or I could just stay here,” Leslie agrees, curling herself around him once again. He falls asleep to the sound of her breathing softly in his ear, and all feels right in the world. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to supervanillabear31 and fourthinobesity for looking over this for me! You guys are simply the greatest!! 
> 
> And thank you all for your comments and kudos. They brighten my day, and you're super awesome!!! <3

The day they’re finally released from the hospital is a very good day, namely because it means that Ben’s effectively passed all of his kidney stones, and Leslie’s stopped yelling at him for ever having them in the first place. Their legs however, are a much different story, and he stares down at the bandages often, trying to wrap his mind around how he ever _willingly_ allowed a knife in there. Twice.

He rubs his temples as he signs out, glancing over at Leslie, who too makes it seem like just _standing_ , is pure torture right now. A strand of hair slips from her ponytail as she fills out paperwork, falling in front of her eyes. Ben’s hand twitches to tuck it behind her ear, just as he’d done when they were laying together, but she moves it before he can, and he’s forced to look back down at the papers in front of him. 

Lately, he’s had to keep reminding himself that he likes her much more than she likes him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting to kiss her senseless. He wants to slot his hands beneath her jaw and pull her closer to him, and then he wants to feel her lips underneath his until he can’t breathe. 

_And yeah, he’s not quite sure when that happened._

He’s beginning to realize that this is no longer about wanting to kiss Soul, it’s about wanting to kiss _Leslie_ , and, god, does he want to kiss Leslie. He wants to do a lot more than that frankly, but he’s trying really hard not to let his mind go there. The last thing he needs after passing kidney stones is an aching erection. He’d really like the universe to leave his penis alone for a little while. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a nurse asking him a few standard questions, something about updating his file, and Leslie nearly loses her shit when he says his birthday is November 14th.

“November 14th!?” she shouts. “But that’s only two weeks away!” 

“Um, yeah,” Ben nods his head, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Truthfully, he’s never really made a big deal out of his birthday. He usually just marathons Star Wars and drinks a beer or two, and that’s about it, but Leslie has that look in her eye, the look that says she’s already planning something. 

“Well you have to have a party!” she says, the excited gleam in her eyes only growing larger. 

“O-oh, no, that’s okay.” 

“What are you talking about?! You, mister, are getting a birthday party whether you like it or not,” Leslie says, jabbing a finger into his chest with every word and smiling brilliantly up at him. “And, I’m going to throw it for you!”

“Well I-”

“What’s your favorite kind of cake?” she interrupts, and he mumbles his response, figuring that there’s really no getting out of this; once Leslie has her mind set on something, there’s no changing it. Ben likes that about her, but it also terrifies him. What if he can never change her mind about him? What if they never get any further than this stage in their relationship? 

“Chocolate,” he grumbles.

“Chocolate’s my favorite too!” she shouts. “Okay, so we’ll have the party at my house and we can invite Ann, April, Andy, Ron…”

“Do we really have to invite Ron?” Ben asks, not particularly loving the idea of getting the shit beaten out of him on his own birthday. 

“Yes! Ron loves parties!” 

Somehow Ben doesn't think that’s true, but he finds himself nodding along and agreeing with her anyways, because he’s finding it increasingly difficult to say no to Leslie Knope; it’s like his brain just doesn't let him do it anymore, and he’s powerless to it all. 

Yet, he doesn’t exactly find himself minding; he just listens to her ramble on and on about the possibility of maybe getting Lil’ Sebastian to make an appearance at what she’s already calling, ’the party of the millenium’.

Because a fucking pony is exactly what he needs for a happy birthday.  

***

Two weeks whiz by far too quickly for Ben’s liking, and before he even really knows it, it’s his birthday, and he wants nothing more than to crawl into a giant hole and never emerge again. It wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that Leslie invited most of City Hall to his party tonight, and most of City Hall would pay a lot of money to see him dead. 

Actually, the only people who don't seem to hate him are Leslie, Chris and Andy,. Then again Chris and Andy basically love everyone so he doesn't feel too accomplished in that department. Still, he’s really excited that Leslie seems to be warming up to the idea of him though, and that they’ve been getting together a lot lately. Just last week, they met at JJ’s, and the week before that, they went bowling together. Ben really wants to make a move at this point, but he’s scared; scared that it’s too soon and scared that she’ll tell him exactly what he doesn't want to hear. He really doesn't want to ruin this, so he’s taking it slow.

_Agonizingly slow._

_So slow he isn't sure how he hasn't burst into flames at this point._

It’s getting harder though, especially because he isn't even sure if he’s staying in Pawnee for much longer. He hasn't told Leslie about the job offer yet, and he still isn't really sure if he should take it. Does she even want him here? Or is he just a nice person for her to hang out with for a while? 

He wishes he had at least answers.

But for now, he’s happy to just see her at all, and that’s what he keeps telling himself as he climbs the last few steps to her house, a six pack in hand and absolutely no birthday spirit at all whatsoever.

“Ben!” Leslie shouts, opening the door. “Happy birthday!” 

She pulls him close to her and engulfs him in a bone-crushing hug, which he returns perhaps _too_ enthusiastically. Her hair smells like mangos or something fruity, and it’s just as vibrant and full of life as she is.

“Hi,” he says lamely, resisting the urge to bite his lip nervously, or run an anxious hand through his hair. God knows, he could do without any human-disastrousness tonight. 

“Gross. Ben’s here,” someone says from inside the house and Leslie turns towards them.

“Nooo, April,” she says, “Not gross.” But April just rolls her eyes and says that she doesn't really care anyways; she just came for the pizza and cake, nothing else. 

And really, it’s about all Ben would've expected from her.

The night turns out to be just as awkward as he’d feared. No one really seems to understand why he’s there, or why Leslie’s throwing a party for the man who fired her, at all. At several points throughout the evening, Ron stares at him like he’s trying to figure out the best way to rip him apart, and truthfully, Ben wouldn't mind that at all right now. Anything to get out of this uncomfortable mess.  

He ends up just sitting on the couch for the majority of the evening, nursing a beer and counting down the minutes until he gets to go home, which, admittedly, is hard, because he has no idea when this is supposed to end. 

He hopes it’s soon. 

“So, how’d you brainwash Leslie into liking you?” April asks at one point in the evening, sinking down into the cushions next to him, and wearing a glare that could rival just about anyone’s. “Are you a witch?” 

 “Um, no,” Ben says, thinking that this conversation’s barely even started, and it’s already stranger than most conversations he’s ever had. “I’m not a witch.” 

“So how’d you do it then?” 

“I dunno.” he shrugs, and it’s the truth. He has no idea why Leslie still puts up with him. 

“Well, if Leslie likes you, then I’ll tolerate you, but as soon as you do _anything_ to hurt her…” April says, drawing an imaginary line across her throat. “I’ll feast on your blood for breakfast.” 

“O-oh, okay. Well, just so you know I don't plan on hurting…” 

“You better not,” April interrupts. 

“Okay, I won’t,” he promises, and she offers him the slightest of smiles.

“Good,” she says, getting up to walk away, but at the last second she turns back to him. “Oh, and also, Andy and I are looking for a roommate because our rent just went up, so when you take that job, you can room with us.” 

“Uh, how, how’d you know about that job?” 

But instead of answering, April just widens her eyes dramatically and backs slowly out of the room. 

Look, it wasn't their weirdest encounter.

And he’s oddly touched by her offer, nonetheless.

***

It isn't until the cake is brought out, that the disaster Ben has been anticipating all night finally happens. He makes it through the awkwardness of having everyone sing to him, and there are no candle-related fire disasters, but as soon as Leslie goes to cut the first slice of cake, all hell breaks loose. 

She just barely nips her finger with the knife, and it wouldn't be so bad really, except for the fact that everyone immediately notices Ben grabbing his own hand and hissing softly, blood pooling at his fingertip. 

“Oh shit! Sorry, Ben,” Leslie says, examining her finger, but then her eyes suddenly widen as she realizes everyone in the entire room now knows their secret. She raises her head up to meet everyone’s shocked expressions, and her gulp echoes in the now dead silent room. 

Ben’s head is reeling. He and Leslie’d made a kind of unspoken pact not to tell anyone about this yet, so that they could first sort through their own feelings, and now this could potentially ruin the whole thing. 

And he really, really doesn’t want it to ruin the whole thing.

“Oh dear,” Ann says, the first to break the uncomfortable silence, and as soon as she does so, everyone begins talking all at once. 

“Oh my god! This is the best party ever,” April says at the same time that Andy lets out a surprised o _ho!_   and knocks over about ten different things. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tom smiles, holding his hands up and clearly trying to stifle back his laughter. “Leslie’s soulmate is an even bigger nerd than she is? I didn’t think that could be possible.” 

“Okay, Tom…” Leslie starts, but she’s interrupted by April. 

“And that explains why you and Ben have been all over each other recently. Gross.” 

“All o-over? No, that’s…that’s not…” Ben cuts in, sputtering profusely. 

“Mmm get it, Knope,” Donna raises her eyebrows suggestively, and Leslie looks to Ann for guidance, but Ann just shrugs and shakes her head, equally as unsure of how to rectify the situation. 

“Oh no, no we haven’t…”

“I should’ve known you two were boning. You’ve both been acting super happy all of a sudden.” 

“Oh my god, Donna,” Ben says, putting his head into his hands and trying to ignore the fact that the tips of his ears are now a bright crimson. 

_This isn't happening. This can’t be happening._

_Where’s the giant hole that’s going to swallow him up now and save him from all of this?_

“Okay, look,” Leslie says, coming over to Ben and gripping his hand for support. “Ben and I are soulmates. But we haven't done, um, anything yet, so that’s why we didn’t tell you.” she finishes lamely. 

“So I should stop brainstorming different ways to hurt him?” Ron asks, and Leslie nods vigorously. 

“Yeah, you should definitely stop doing that,” she says, squeezing Ben’s hand affectionately and smiling at him.

***

“How are your legs?” Leslie asks, handing him another drink and settling down next to him. 

“They’ve been better,” Ben admits. 

Everyone else’s left the party by now, and it’s just the two of them, sitting on Leslie’s couch and nursing the last of the beers in her fridge. Truthfully, Ben’s glad that they’re all gone; he can only suffer so much tension in one evening. 

“I’m really am sorry about stabbing you,” she says, and Ben just chuckles softly.

“It’s okay. I think I deserved it.” 

“No, you didn’t. It wasn't just your decision to fire me, and I’ve been really unfair to you when you were just doing your job.” 

“Oh, well thank you for saying that,” Ben says. “And thank you for throwing this party for me. It’s nice to know that someone actually cares enough to go through all this trouble.”

“Well I have a feeling that if I didn’t do this, you would’ve spent your birthday in your motel room sulking, or doing whatever it is that you do.” 

“I do not _sulk!”_ Ben laughs, bumping his shoulder into hers. Leslie returns the pressure.

“Uh huh, I don’t believe you.”

“Well, I’ll have you know, I had a very nice Star Wars marathon planned for myself, but then _somebody_ went and ruined it by making other plans,” Ben says, and she giggles.

“Jeez, who is this somebody? They sound like a real jerk,” Leslie says, but Ben quickly turns serious.

“No, she isn’t a jerk at all,” he whispers, their faces now inches from one another. He gets lost in how endlessly blue her eyes are. “She’s actually really nice and funny and pretty. I like her a lot.” 

Leslie stills for a moment, and Ben begins to think he screwed everything up, but then a soft smile makes it’s way onto her lips. 

“She likes you too,” Leslie whispers back, and then she leans in the rest of the way and kisses him softly, her lips lingering for less than a second, before she pulls back and looks at him, the question hanging in her eyes. 

At first Ben is too shocked to respond, but then he pulls her face to his again, his hands secured under her jaw as he presses his lips back to hers. The feeling is electric, like every single nerve ending in his body is on fire, and he can’t feel anything else. The rest of the room fades out into a blur, and all he can focus on is how pliant her mouth is under his, how soft her lips are, and how arousing it is to feel her moan into him. 

Ben puts an arm around Leslie’s waist and moves her impossibly closer, needing more contact, more pressure. She doesn't object, but instead comes willingly, twisting her hands into his hair. The kiss is soft and hard at the same time, sweet but dirty, and everything he didn’t even know he needed. 

It’s almost like he’s been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. 

She’s perfect.

Everything's perfect. 

He pulls away only when he can no longer breathe, and he leans his forehead against hers, drawing deep gulps of air and trying to process what just happened. Leslie seems just as out of breath as he is, but her hands never leave his hair, and she toys with the ends of it, smiling softly. 

Leslie’s touches send a surge of electricity through him, and it almost feels as though he’s just been just struck by lightening. Ben’s never felt so aware of himself before, aware of his own mind and fingertips and beating heart. Everywhere that her skin comes into contact with his, burns pleasantly, and Ben never wants to let go; he never wants it to end. He knows now, that all the stars and planets have lined up perfectly, and that the universe has gotten what it’s always intended. 

Everything’s the way that it’s supposed to be.

“Wow,” she says after several moments, and Ben immediately agrees. 

“Yeah,” he says, pressing soft kisses to her nose and cheeks, and any part of her face that he can reach. He can’t get enough of her. 

He doesn't think he ever will. 

And somehow, he’s okay with that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!! 
> 
> Kudos and comments, as always, are super appreciated.
> 
> And as always, a huge thank you to both supervanillabear31 and fourthinobesity for all their help and support! You guys are the bomb.com <3

After only living there for a week, Ben concludes that rooming with April and Andy is…interesting, to say the very least. On the first night, he woke up at 3:30 in the morning to the sounds of Mouse Rat having a band rehearsal in the middle of the living room, and, when he tried to confront Andy about it the next day, April came up from behind him and poured grape jam down the back of his shirt.

_His very white shirt._

And then, as if that wasn't enough, only a few minutes later, an entire pizza was thrown at him like some sort of gigantic, cheesy frisbee, hitting him square in the face and causing him to spill the coffee he was holding down his chest. 

Needless to say, he threw out that shirt. And considered applying for a different lease.

But, all things considered, he really is thankful for April and Andy. If it wasn't for them, he’d still be living in Pawnee Super Suites right now, and just about anything can beat that, including this whole new nightmare that he’s experiencing.

Because he will take a pizza to the face over bedbugs any day of the year. 

“Move,” April says, and Ben obediently shifts to make room for her on the couch. He’s learned that fighting with April gets him absolutely nowhere, and he’s better off just letting things go, otherwise he’ll wake up with a giant penis drawn on his forehead in bright red Sharpie.

And Leslie will giggle at him as she tries to rub it off with a wet cloth.

Actually, if he gets to hear her laugh like that again, maybe he _should_ pick a fight with April…? He would give just about anything to be able to hear Leslie’s cackle, even if it does sound kind of like a dying raven, because it’s stupidly adorable.

“Why aren't you at Leslie’s?” April asks him, as if reading his mind. She uses a wooden spoon to push steaming hot turkey-chili around her frisbee-plate, and glares at him expectantly. 

“Uhhhh…” 

“Because you should be,” April says with a roll of her eyes. “You’re different when you're around her. Happier…Or whatever.”

And then she stands up and walks from the room, leaving Ben to wonder about a lot of things.

***

In the two weeks that follow their first kiss, Ben learns a lot about Leslie. He learns that she takes her tea with seven spoonfuls of sugar and as much honey as she possibly can fit into the mug without any liquid spilling over the sides. He learns that the only vegetables she actually likes are potatoes, and she prefers them in the form of whipped cream vodka, which she drinks a surprising amount of. He learns that all her favorite songs are Sarah McLachlan songs and that she belts them out as often as she can (which is pretty often, by the way).

He also learns that, since he fired her, she’s been “volunteering” for the Parks Department behind his back, still carrying most (all) of the workload for them even in her absence. It should annoy him, and if it was anyone else, it probably would, but he can’t help but to find it all ridiculously endearing. 

She’s an infuriating ball of warm sunshine, and he loves that about her. He also loves that he has to clear off her couch every single time they go to sit on it because it’s always covered in idea binders.

But also, she really should do something about her hoarder tendencies. Because this is the third time tonight he’s stacked her work into a pile on the floor. 

“I got us popcorn,” Leslie says, snuggling down next to him. Ben wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple, unable to keep himself from touching her. Because he does things like that now; wraps his arm around her and kisses her like they’re two high school sweethearts at the movies.

And he loves it.

“Mmm, thank you,” he says. He grabs a handful immediately, knowing that if he doesn’t, he wont get to eat any at all because it’ll be gone by then. That’s another thing he’s learned about Leslie; her small frame is very deceiving, and she can actually plow through food, especially junk food, like nobody’s business. Ben’s never seen anything like it. 

“So, Mr. Assistant City Manager, how was your first day?” She nudges him playfully in the side.

“Good I guess,” he says with a shrug. He goes to hit play on their movie, hoping to prolong having this discussion. 

“You guess? Is everything okay?” Leslie asks, shifting so she can face him. Her eyes are big and full of concern.

“Yeah, I just…well, I- I kinda feel bad talking about it with you. Especially after…everything,” he says. He knows that there’s guilt written all over his face, but he does nothing to try and hide it at this point.

“Well,” Leslie says, practically bursting at the seams with excitement, “Would it help to know that I’m being considered for a seat on City Council? So my old job doesn't even matter anymore!” 

“You what?!” 

“I know!” Leslie screams, digging her nails into his arm. “I’m wasn’t supposed to tell you; they told me not to tell anyone yet, until we publicly announce it, but I couldn't hold it in anymore! Plus, you look like a sexy lumberjack in that plaid, and no woman could ever resist you.” 

“That’s…that’s amazing, Leslie! I’m so proud of you,” he says, planting a featherlight kiss on her earlobe and squeezing her hands in both of his. “You deserve it.” 

“I’m so excited, Ben,” she tells him enthusiastically. “They told me that they knew I was the one really behind the Harvest Festival, and my one-thousand page book about Pawnee, which I wrote last month, showed that I really care about the town, and it makes me a good candidate! Isn’t that amazing?” 

“Of course you wrote a book last month,” he says, shaking his head and smiling in spite of himself. He’s completely in awe of her.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you're Leslie Knope, and of course you wrote a one-thousand page book about Pawnee, the greatest city in Indiana and quite possibly the world.” 

“You betcha boots I did,” she says. He pulls her closer to him, and it isn't until he hits play on _The Empire Strikes Back,_ that Ben suddenly pauses the TV and turns to look at her again.

“Wait, I look like a lumberjack?” 

***

For the first time in his entire life, Ben Wyatt does not pay attention to Star Wars. Instead, he pays attention to the way Leslie’s lips shift underneath his, sending a chill down his spine. His pants tighten uncomfortably, and he doesn't know how much longer he can wait to fuck her.

Because they haven't exactly done that yet.

And Ben would really, really like to know what it feels like be inside her. He wants to know what sounds she makes when she orgasms, if she’s a moaner or a screamer, because he highly doubts that she’s silent. She’s far too passionate for that sort of thing.

It’s almost like Leslie knows what he’s thinking, because a teasing hand snakes up his thigh and cups him through his jeans. 

“Let’s go to bed,” she whispers into his mouth. 

“I- Leslie are you sure?” He doesn't want to pressure her. 

“I am super duper sure. I really, really want to have sex with you, Benjamin.” Leslie says, pulling him off the couch and leading him upstairs with her.

“And I really, really want to have sex with you, Lesliemin.” he says into her neck, and they fall onto the bed together in a mess of limbs. 

***

Breathless. 

Ben is breathless. 

Soft lips trail along his collarbone and jaw, pressing kisses into his skin with unspoken promises, while nimble fingers rake through his hair. Ben’s hands find the hem of Leslie’s shirt, and he pushes it up, eyes meeting hers for reassurance. She sits up straighter so he can pull the fabric over her head, and he stares at the swells of her breasts hungrily. He pulls her bra down, attaching his mouth to the plump skin, sucking just hard enough that he feels his own nipple tighten in something that should be pain, but is actually pleasure.

Soon, both their clothes lie in a forgotten heap on the floor next to her bed, and they explore each other’s bodies, somehow feeling everything double, feeling everything more. They roll under the sheets like thunder, and in a whirlwind he ends up on top, hands on either side of her head. He dips down and places a kiss on her lips, his fingers dancing down her body until they reach the space between her legs. He draws through her wetness and swallows her gasp, his dick growing impossibly harder against her thigh. 

“Ben, I want you.” Her breath is hot against his neck, and he knows that she needs this just as much as he does. He brings his fingers, wet and dripping from being inside her, up to her lips, and she sucks them into her mouth as he lines up with her entrance. 

“I got you, baby,” he says huskily.

And then he’s sinking into her and marveling in how perfectly they come together. He drops his forehead to hers and takes a ragged breath, getting used to the sensations of it all. His hand slips from her mouth, dragging across her lower lip.

This is unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

Slowly, he pulls out and then pushes back in. Leslie moans into his ear and wraps her legs around him, the movement deepening his thrusts. 

And then he loses control, and she lets him.

He pounds into her erratically, his body taking over his mind. 

_Faster. Harder. More._

“Ben!” Leslie gasps, loud and guttural. Her nails scrape down his back, sending goosebumps across his skin as she shatters around him. The movement is enough to send him over the edge too, and he sees the universe behind his eyes as he comes completely undone.

He is on fire.

He is breathless.  

***

“That was…”

“Yeah, wow.” 

Ben clutches Leslie’s bedsheets and stares up at the ceiling. He’s almost afraid to even look at her, as if that alone will somehow break the moment they just shared. Everything feels like it’s off kilter, but in the best possible way.

He’d read about soulmates-sex before, and knew that it was apparently supposed to be heavenly, but he wasn't prepared for just _how_ heavenly it was.

Because that was _easily_ the best sex of his life. He understands now why no soulmates have ever been known to cheat on one other. Ben doesn't think he’ll even _think_ about another woman ever again.

Kathy Ireland included. Even when she’s doing naked aerobics. 

Leslie’s hand finds his, and she entangles their fingers together, rolling onto her side to face him. She traces patterns through his chest hair idly, and Ben doesn't think he’ll ever tire of her light touches.

“Where did that come from?” Leslie asks after several long moments, smiling into his neck and then placing a soft kiss there. 

“I don’t know,” Ben admits, squeezing her hand in his. “I guess I just…lost control.”

“Mhmm I liked it.” She snuggles closer into his side, and he wraps an arm around her. 

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, but he can’t keep the dopey grin off his face. Honestly, it’ll be a miracle if he ever stops smiling after everything that just happened. He didn’t used to think that happiness like this could even exist, but Leslie Knope seems to be changing his mind about a lot of things these days.

And he’s completely okay with that.

“Yeah,” she says, giggling. She meets his eyes, and Ben can’t help but to notice that hers are even bluer and more lively than usual, which is quite a feat.

She’s radiant. Absolutely radiant. 

And really, what did he ever do to deserve her? 

Lips meet lips, and limbs entangle with limbs.

And souls touch. 


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly! I can't believe it's over! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and leaving such nice feedback along the way! And a special thank you goes to supervanillabear31 and fourthinobesity (GO CHECK OUT THEIR STORIES) for betaing and supporting me through it all! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter. Sorry it's taken me so long <3 <3

_Ten Years Later:_

Delightful screeches and laughter can be heard from upstairs, and Ben knows from experience that the sounds belong to Stephen and Sonia, the louder of his and Leslie’s three children. Wesley is more quiet and reserved than his siblings, reminding Ben of what he was like when he was younger, but the other two scream _Leslie_ in everything they do. 

It’s likely because of this reason that Ben feels most connected to Wesley of them all. It isn't that he loves his youngest son more than the others because he doesn’t - He loves all of his children equally, and nothing could ever possibly change that. He’s head over heels for his family. He’s never quite felt like he’s fully deserved any of them. It’s just that he understands Wesley the most, and he knows how to handle him the same way Leslie knows how to handle an overly energetic Stephen or Sonia. It’s an arrangement that works well for them all, and Ben couldn't even imagine it being any different than what it is. 

Because he and his wife are the perfect dream team, and he doesn’t think he could come up with a more kick-ass duo even if he tried. 

Well, _maybe_ Batman and Robin could give them a run for their money, but that’s besides the point.

“Can you keep it down please?” Leslie yells at the ceiling, but it’s no use. Heavy footfalls still thunder from up above, and Stephen and Sonia continue to yell while most likely destroying half of the house in the process. Ben pictures Wesley sitting alone in his room, making no noise at all whatsoever, and he doesn’t think he’s loved the little boy more. 

“Listen to your mother,” Ben pleads wearily, but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows they wont do much good. He and Leslie are coming up on hour six of trying to write the perfect campaign speech for her mayoral election, and he’d like nothing more than some peace and quiet in the house. It certainly doesn’t help that the triplets keep coming into the room and interrupting them as much as you’d expect any six year olds to do, but now Ben is tired and frustrated. And he would like to crawl into his bed, snuggle with his wife, and sleep for an eternity by her side. 

Who knew that raising three children at once could be so demanding and trying?

“But, Daddy, we’re having fuuuunnnn!” Stephen screams back, but as soon as he does, a loud clatter can be heard. Ben knows the sound all too well, and he mentally envisions Sonia running full speed into his dresser (the safe spot in tag) and accidentally knocking his iPad onto the floor. Again. This makes Leslie giggle. Her laugh reverberates around the room and causes him to completely forget how aggravated he just was. It tugs at Ben’s heart in the best ways imaginable, making him stop for a moment and think about how lucky he really is to have met her.

The years have stretched by quickly with her by his side, almost as if time had sped up in her presence. It’s strange, really, how much Leslie’s already become something like oxygen to Ben, how he much just knows that he couldn’t possibly live without her ever again, and how much he doesn’t even want to. In a lot of ways, Ben doesn’t know how he ever _did_ live without her; he doesn’t know how his days could’ve had any meaning unless she was in them, filling them up to the absolute brim with a happiness he didn’t even know existed.

Because he is happy. He knows now that he wasn’t before he met her; he was merely just living, going through the motions of life without actually giving so much as a second thought as to what they might mean in the long run. He hadn’t been interested in the future or anything like that. He was aimless, and Leslie turned his entire life around for him, without him even having to ask. 

He owes her everything, he knows that now - Everything he is and everything he will ever be again.

He is so deeply in love with her, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he was a goner right from the very beginning. 

He realizes now that there was a reason why he felt most guilty about firing her out of everyone that day, a reason why she could get under his skin more than anyone ever had, even before they knew that they were soulmates. And then, after she stapled her finger in his office all those years ago, there was a reason why they didn’t just die out forever, why their spark never faded away. 

He couldn't keep himself away from her, no matter how hard he tried. 

A soulmate connection is so much different than any other, and Ben’s still reeling from it. It isn't something that you can just get used to, and it never grows old. It’s new and fresh with each passing day, but Ben isn't sure whether that’s the connection itself, or if it’s just Leslie. Sometimes he suspects it’s both, but most of the time he just suspects it’s the latter. 

“Mommy? Daddy?” a timid voice says from behind them, interrupting Ben’s thoughts. He and Leslie look up to find Wesley, green glasses slightly askew on his nose, with a small gash ripping across his chin. It isn't terribly deep, but it’s enough to make both him and Leslie leap into action and tend to their son, who now has tears dripping down his face. His lip quivers as Leslie rushes into the other room in search of a towel to press into his skin in order to stop the blood flow. Ben bends down and picks up his son, rubbing comforting circles into his back. Wesley clings onto him for dear life.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ben soothes. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t - ” Wesley manages to get out, though his tears distort his voice.

“It’s okay, buddy. Did Stephen accidentally hit you with his lightsaber again?” he asks, mentally reminding himself to talk to his other son about his enthusiasm, not for the first time that week. It seemed to be a conversation they were having a lot lately, and while Stephen never meant to get so hyper, someone else always ended up suffering the effects of it.

“N-no. I don't know what happened.”

Leslie comes back into the room, a wet washcloth in tow. Ben sits on the couch and flips Wesley in his lap so that she can dab at the cut. He hugs his son closer to him.

“I was just playing with figurines in my room, and then my chin hurt.” he continues, trying to twist his face away from Leslie’s hands. Ben knows the washcloth must sting. “I wasn’t even touching it, Daddy, I swear.”

At this, Ben and Leslie turn to look at one another, the same look of amazement and wonder behind their eyes. He knows she’s thinking it too, thinking that just maybe their son…maybe their son has a soulmate just like they do. 

“Are you sure?” Ben asks carefully, though his eyes never leave Leslie’s widened ones. 

“Yeah, Daddy, I’m sure.” 

And that’s when Ben notices it, the Han Solo figurine that used to be his, clutched securely in Wesley’s hand.

He knows then that the circle will just keep on turning. Forever. 

Maybe one day Wesley too will meet someone who makes him reconsider what it means to be in love, who means everything to him, just like Leslie means everything to Ben, because Leslie is his world. 

She is his brain and his heart and his whole entire life.

She is his Soul. 

And Ben wouldn’t have it any other way. 


End file.
